Echoes of the Narbeleth
by Spirit Star
Summary: AUTHOR'S NOTE, (please read the note even if you don't read the fic itself) Adariel, a trapped elven princess, longs for freedom. When she hears of the Fellowship, her heart leads her there and to the one who will teach her what it is to love and be loved
1. Chapter 1: In which Adariel finds her ca...

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Disclaimer: I don't own anybody in this story except for Adariel and minor character associated with her, i.e. Maids and other people like that…….. 

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Echoes of the Narbeleth

Spirit Star

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Chapter 1: In which Adariel finds her calling

It has been long said that for each race there is a most beautiful maiden. For the dwarves, it is Pegeli of Moria (alas, the tragedy of her death; Dwarf maidens are hard to come by). For Man it is Rowan of the White City. For hobbits, it is Hopin of The Shire (name after a rare herb that grew there). For Wizards, it is Gwendelle the Silver who passed away into the West thus long ago. For Elves, it is Adariel of Lakewood. 

Although beautiful on the outside, it can't be guaranteed that they are beautiful on the inside. This is true in the cases of Pegeli, and Rowan. Maybe true for Gwendelle, a load of rubbish for Hopin (who, as hobbits go, is extremely carefree). But for Adariel of Lakewood………

Whispers pass among Elven ears like the breeze that swirls the leaves. Adariel of Lakewood, the fairest of the fair. But alas. The coldest heart of Elf lore. Never had anybody seen her smile. Never had anybody seen her laugh. Never had anybody seen her cry. 

Adariel the Elven Princess of Lakewood was as cold as ice, as emotionless as glass. Nobody passed through Lakewood without caution. Prisoners brought in front of Adariel were never seen again. 

It was not long before Mother Elves cautioned their children with stories that scared them. "Beware of Adariel of Lakewood. Beware the Maiden of Lakewood. She whose heart has frozen will have yours taken too."

This saying had a double meaning. Face on, it meant that she was merciless and tyrant-like. But like many who are Beautiful, Adariel had won many hearts of young elves only to crush them, have them stamped on and thrown away. Lakewood was a city where only Maidens thrived and all others slunk with caution. 

Not surprisingly such talk reached the ears of Adariel herself. 

"I be not cold, but lonely," she whispered to herself in the privacy of her own window. She hated the confinement of Lakewood. Day after day, she watched young Elven men practice sword skills, archery while Maidens sat quietly upon the tree towers watching, although the occasional one joined in. Adariel could do no such thing.

"As _the_ Maiden of Lakewood, you must know that you set the standard of behaviour," said her Father, the Elven King of Lakewood

And so Adariel spent her days confined inside, watching from her paneless window. 

But observing soon brought skill. And skill led on to mastering as the golden leaves fell again and again. Adariel, sitting by her window soon learnt the art of archery by just observing. Not only did she learn it, she was incredibly good at it. Secretly inside her room, she had strung a bow out of Willow-wood. When nobody was looking, Adariel would slip a quiver of arrows up to her room and fling her window open.

In the dead of the night when the stars shone through the canopy, she would shoot arrows at a target point, each arrow piecing the previous until she could even determine the angle that the arrow would split into. 

And so Adariel would pass her days as such. 

"I be not cold but unhappy" she whispers to herself when she heard the saying whispered among the treetops. 

Her life bored her incredibly. As Maiden, let along the most beautiful maiden of Elf lore, she was an object to be admired, not used. An ornament to be placed on a mantle, silent, still. 

No skill was ever taught to her, but like the process of learning Archery, Adariel also mastered many others that she spied from beneath her window. From years of observing, Adariel learnt that she had the gift of Healing. She could heal better than the best Healers in Lakewood. This gift, nobody ever found she had. She learnt the many laws of healing, from the most basic to The Spirit Key, used only in the most desperate of situations in which the healer swapped her own life for the other. 

And she could also understand Tree Language. That is to say, communicate with trees and plants as well as birds and animals. Although it was in her blood to understand the whisperings of the ones that surrounded her, not many Elves could communicate back. And the trees and animals only spoke when they wanted to be heard. The flora and fauna kept her company under her window and she heard many tales of the world around her. Her longing grew with each word spoken.

And so seasons came and went until Adariel reached the form of a young woman, although she had the wisdom of many life spans. Wistfully, she would glance out her window every day. Such was her observation that she had mastered many skills displayed in Lakewood to a standard that surpassed the best in all skills. Often she cursed Immortality. It was enough spending one lifetime like this. But a million lifetimes and more? How could she stand it?

There was a commotion in the thrown grove, and Adariel frowned. It was not everyday that somebody caused an uproar in Lakewood. In fact, not many visitors came at all. She frowned as she tried to remember the last time that guests had dined with them. There were two of them…both of dark hair. And she someone mentioning that they came from Rivendell. 

Adariel glided down the winding twine and through the willow blinds towards the grove. 

"Father, what is it?" she asked smoothly, appearing from behind a crystal waterfall near the beginning of the lake grove. 

"He brings news of Mordor and Saruman. It has begun again." Murmured the Elven King of Lakewood, indicating to the trembling messenger (who had heard the Maiden enter and feared the worst). 

Adariel had heard of the power of the Ring many seasons ago. She had heard her father's stories of the Great Battle in which the Ring parted with its master. And recently she had felt rather than heard of the rising forces near Mordor, although her plant and animal friends told her much of it. 

"You are dismissed," said Adariel to the messenger coldly, and immediately winced. She did not mean to sound like this, but it came out of many years of longing and misery. 

The messenger stumbled out of the room thankful for his life, but could not help glancing at her once more on his way out. He froze, beholding her beauty. Adariel frowned. "Out." She said again glaring. 

The messenger ran. 

"Rivendell sends word of a gathering of a representative from each race. We are to be represented by the Elven Prince of Mirkwood, Legolas Thruanduilion." Adariel hastened to nod. She had already heard of this from her wildlife friends, but to not act surprised meant suspicion.

"What else does it say, Father?"

"Nothing…" here he frowned, "Is it not strange, it says nothing at all."

This time, Adariel truly was surprised. Messages from Rivendell were usually rare, although when they did come, they were quite lengthy. That evening, Adariel threw open her window once more and leaned out until she was facing the trunk of a willow tree. Stretching her hand out, she touched the trunk of it. It was quite an old tree as she could feel it in her heart. 

"Ssssseeeeeth seoffffffthe thhhhhhessssss" She greeted it. The tree stirred and whispered it's hiss in welcome. 

"Please tell me of what goes on in Rivendell. What news is there of Legolas Greenleaf?" she asked gently, gazing up at the hanging branches. The tree paused as if drawing breath. 

"Ssssssetttthhhh fesssoooothhh fffeee rriiivvverrrrrdale. Ceeeeeeefosss…….." The tree continued this way for quite some time. Adariel could tell that it grew tired after a time, and thanked it. 

Leaning back inside, she bid the tree farewell and her mind went over the events that the Willow spoke of. 

It had said that a secret meeting had taken place in Rivendell, and it had also spoke of the Hobbit named Frodo who was Ringbearer for the Great Destroyer. Adariel guessed that this was the Last Ring. It had also said that he was going to travel into Mordor to cast it back into the Fire that it was first made in. 

Adariel could barely behold the task. She could feel the menace that surrounded Mordor even from Lakewood. The Evil Army was growing stronger, and no doubt that it would be like walking into a trap willingly. She admired Frodo, not only for his bravery, but also for the adventure. 

She then thought of the next part. The tree had said that there was a group of people to accompany him on this task and to protect him. This was the Fellowship of the Ring, of which Legolas Greenleaf had volunteered to be a part of. It consisted of an Elf, a Wizard, a Dwarf, four Hobbits, and two Men, one of which was Elf raised. He who was raised by Elven folk was none other than Aragorn, the rightful King. 

Trees knew things that even the wisest didn't. News traveled fast as one tree's whispered traveled the breeze to the ears of others, and the eyes of birds caught sights that

Glancing through the glass, Adariel could see the many stars that glowed in the bright Moonlight. Like the stars, Adariel could only glitter faintly, overpowered by the light of the Moon. 

A whisper stirred her thoughts. It was the whisper of her own mind. '_If you do not go now your heart may not get you another chance._' 

"The I shall go as I please and ride where my heart takes me" she answered. Her icy eyes looking grim, and determined, the mask of the Maiden of Lakewood slipped as adventure sparkled in her eyes.

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End of Chapter 1

Reviews please! No flames but constructive criticism is very welcome! - Spirit Star

I must admit to being quite indulgent in my writing. Please forgive. For older readers, you may be able to tell that I have of course edited this chapter. Hopefully the decrease of grammatical errors pleases the picky. See you at the end!


	2. Chapter 2: In which she follows her hear...

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Disclaimer: I don't own anybody in this story except for Adariel and minor character associated with her, i.e. Maids and other people like that…….. 

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Echoes of the Narbeleth

Spirit Star

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Chapter 2: In which she follows her heart

By dawn she was gone. After the decision of her heart, Adariel would could not look back. 

She un-plaited her silky hair that danced for a minute in the light and took off the Oak leaf signifying that she belonged to Lakewood. Instead, she hung it around her neck. Ripping off her gown, she wore a tight long sleeved silver undershirt over her mail with long neck that bound to her throat, donned a short sleeved coarse dress that flopped loosely over her thighs and slipped on course brown pants. 

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Dear Father

I am to be gone by the dawn. I know not if I shall see you again, but know this: Where I have gone, none may follow me. I have let my heart lead me away from Lakewood. Do not grieve for me Father, because I know that I feel that I shall see you before you leave for Valinor. Do not search for me because you will not find me, nor do I want to be found. 

-Adariel

She scribbled it hastily and left it on her bed where it was sure to be found. She found a pack near one of the sentry quarters. Hastily she put in a change of clothes (same outfit), some parchment, quills and ink, some food from the kitchens and spare twine to bind her hair with. 

Packed and ready, she let her hair flow down her back until it reached the her elbow where she bound it and plaited it from there on down. Her long fringe shone in the moonlight like silver such was the lightness of her hair. It was a curse to be beautiful sometimes. She had already washed off the bark powder that the Elven Maidens used as face-paint. Her face was unmasked, untouched but as beautiful as ever, giving off a pure glow. She could not disguise herself easily. 

Grabbing her bow and a quiver of arrows, she slung the pack around one shoulder and the quiver and bow over another. Creeping past the guards, she headed for the horse fields. She chose Starliss, the fastest mare that Lakewood had, and maybe one of the fastest in Middle Earth, such was her breeding. Her father had said that she was a gift from distant Lothlorien, although Starliss did not sound like an Elvish name. 

Starliss rolled her eyes and stamped her feet. Her mistress clambered on bareback and held the reins. Her pack securely tied to Starliss's back and her quiver at the ready, Adariel galloped through the stable doors with her hood up so non may recognize her and only undid it when Lakewood was already many miles beyond seeing distance. 

She rode on until she reached a quiet place to rest, and by then it was already morning. Although it worried her how her father would react to her note (he was quite unpredictable, but also very wise so she hoped he hadn't a) guessed where she was or b)panicked). Where was she anyway?

She was by a small flowing river that bordered a small field. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she was lost. She had never been out of Lakewood before, and never out alone. Enjoying the sunlight, she could not admit that she still had a mission to carry out. Starliss pawed the ground uncertainly. 

"Eeeennnbrrr…nnneeeiiighghhh brrrr," she said rather crossly. 

"I know we are lost," snapped Adariel rather like her old self. The mare shied back. Adariel sighed and neighed her apology. 

She lay her head on the roots of a sapling. Here by the river, many saplings grew. She could not ask them for directions for they would barely know their surroundings themselves. Rather like children, saplings were ignorant until there were at least 50 depending on their breed. 

Of all trees, Rowans and Willows were the most intelligent and mysterious while Pines were more resourceful and willing to help. Right now, she needed a pine tree or at least a rowan. 

"We shall ride on until we find a helpful creature" she said to her mare, but then immediately took it back when she saw that Starliss was much offended by it. "Of course YOU are an intelligent creature, but you are as lost as I am,"

And so the journeyed until they came upon a small patch of pine wood. Placing her hand on each, she made her way to the oldest one. "Ssssseeeeeth seoffffffthe thhhhhhessssss" she said to it. 

"Ssssseeeeeth seoffffffthe thhhhhhessssss" it replied, eager to help. 

"Reeeeeeaaaa sssssswwweerrrd deeeeesssshhhhhhaaart" Adariel said, "Deddddllleessssss sssssaraaasssshha sssseeeeiiil"

The tree let out a sort of laugh. It then explained in tree words that she was well out of Lakewood territory and Rivendell was two night's journey North of where they was standing. 

"Ssssssseeeethhhh idddddiiiii Legolas dddddeeeeedddduuueee?"

The tree replied that the Fellowship were heading to Mordor, but it knew of no more than that. When Adariel explained that she did not know where Mordor was, the tree laughed again. 

"Seeeeeessseethhhhh lllllleeeeeeeeeeeeetttttttttteeeellll…………llllookkkkkkkgggg ssssseeeeettteee ddddddeeellsssshha" That is a good thing little one, but Mordor is in the direction that the Orcs are coming from.

Starliss pawed the ground impatiently, tossing her head. Adariel thanked the tree to which it eagerly replied. Jumping onto Starliss, she called upon a passing bird to point north for her and rode off that way. Past brambles and thorn bushes she went, with Starliss screaming in their wake, past rivers and meadows of flowers. The forest roads of which she saw so many of flew past her as she headed North to Riverdale. 

Food was plentiful as she filled her pack whenever she stopped. 

Her journey brought her to the valley where Riverdale was situated, but she hesitated. She had never been out of Lakewood before, and she knew that it was quite improper to be traveling without companion and in rough clothing. Maybe it was best to stop only when she reached what she was looking for. 

So it came that she did not stop in Riverdale. Further North she went, until one night as she was walking along the forest path, she was stopped by the screaming of trees. 

"Adariel!" they called to her, "Evil comes this way!" 

Hastily, she hopped off Starliss and they ran deep into the forest off the pathway. The thundering of hooves shook her and the unnatural screaming of stallions spooked Starliss. Nine dark riders with black horses galloped down the road. She knew them to be Ringwraths after the ring. 

Her heart rejoiced at the direction they were going but her joy was short lived as she recalled one of the trees had said that the horses were destroyed by the river near Rivendell. How was it they were riding again? Aghast, she knew that the Fellowship was in danger. 

"I must follow," she said to herself, and Starliss, always for the challenge, rose up to the occasion. Onward they rode, passing the Ringwraiths using the pathways that the trees and birds told her of. Nearer to the Fellowship she drew, hooves thundering, heart pounding. 

The nearer she drew to her target, the more she learnt from the trees. They told her of the doings of the Fellowship, and as she drew closer to Mordor, the goings on from there. She learnt that failing to pass the icy mountains, the Fellowship had chosen to go through Moria, the dwarf dwelling. With each minute she grew wiser in the ways of the world, and soon she was able to determine were Moria was for herself. 

The trees and wildlife gave her constant warnings of where the Ringwraiths and Orcs were, and so Adariel headed to Moria, hooves pounding. Nearer and nearer she drew to hit, heart pounding, hooves thundering along the road as it got rockier and rockier to the dwarf caves. Like most Elves, Adariel hated the darkness of the caves, but although she had been taught to hate dwarves, she could not bring herself to do it. 

She smiled secretively to herself as she thought of the saying "_Beware the Adariel of Lakewood. Beware the Maiden of Lakewood_. She whose heart is frozen shall have yours taken too" How ironic that the fabled Maiden of Lakewood could not even bring her 'cold' heart to hate dwarves! Her smile dropped a little as she realized that she would always be thought of as the cold maiden from Lakewood. 

Many moons passed before she could finally feel the ground even as it drew near the gates of Moria. Trees cautioned her of the creature in the lake near the gates. In her spare time, Adariel practiced hiding, shadowing, slinking, following and observing without being observed herself. She felt no threat of the Ringwraiths now because she knew that they were not heading this way. Why, not even the trees could figure out. 

She reached Moria first, before the Fellowship. Sleeping on a rocky ledge overlooking it, she would wait for them there until they came. Then she would tail them into Moria. One night, when she was out gathering food, she found the trees screaming at her once again to get off the road. 

Alas, it was too late. A small band of Orcs stumbled upon Adariel. Ten Orcs, obviously having strayed from the main group came face to face with her. With practiced fingers, Adariel immediately shot five arrows with one shot and as the five arrows separated from each other and out of her fingers, each shot one Orc. The others, not recovering from the shock (they were rather dim creatures), could not react fast enough. Five more arrows came at them, until only one was left. Unsheathing it's ax, the one Orc charged at Adariel, who dropped her bow and immediately drew her sword. Dancing nimbly in front of it, she jumped from each blow until she found an opening and struck. 

The Orc could not react fast enough, and Adariel kicked it. As it fell, it's ax slipped from its hand and landed blade first on the side of her foot, skinning it. She cried out in pain, and stared in disbelief as blood poured from the gash. Too pained was she to notice that she had made her first kills. 

Unable to walk, she tried to call out to Starliss. But the mare did not hear her. Her voice was lost in the wind. But as the wind swirled in the trees, and the grass that grew near her heard of her pleas, a single herb plant shed a leaf in the wind, and it blew via the wind to cover Adariel's wound. 

At last she could sleep in peace.

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End of Chapter 2

Reviews please! NO FLAMES but constructive criticism is very welcome! -Spirit Star

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Onwards! Onwards!


	3. Chapter 3: In which obstacles reveal the...

Disclaimer: I don't own anybody in this story except for Adariel and minor character associated with her, i.e. Maids and other people like that  
  
  
  
1 Echoes of the Narbeleth  
  
Spirit Star  
  
  
  
  
  
2 Chapter 3: In Which obstacles reveal themselves  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
With morning came the sweet singing of the woodland birds from their perches upon the high branches of the looming trees. Slowly, Adariel's senses surfaced one by one, first with the ear and last with the eyes. Blinking, she rose slowly and felt the gentle warmth of the sunlight upon her face.  
  
"Ummmmmm," she moaned, not at all with the grace of an Elf. Her mind was blank. The suddenly it was filled with dreads and fears of recent images of the previous night. "Starliss?"  
  
Starliss trotted to her mistress. "Brrrnnneen!" she sniffed, sticking her muzzle in front of Adariel's face. "Brrrnnnneenn!"  
  
Adariel smiled, her face shining with the inner purity of the Elven people. "I am fine, although it aches." As she said the last part, she realized exactly how true it was. Last of her senses to resurface from the comfort of unconsciousness was the numbness in her leg. Shifting slightly, she examined the gash in the fabric of her pant leg. It was deep, but the leaf of the Athelas plant had sealed it, although even it could not take away all the pain.  
  
All that was left was to sew up her pant leg, but that could wait. She had other pressing matters, other than appearing beautiful. A life time of beauty, and she was extremely tired of vanity.  
  
"Ish ssssssssseeeeera," she thanked the forest, and she testily stood up, careful of the unused muscles in her leg. The forest answered her proudly. Starliss rolled her eyes and tossed about, sniffing the air. The scent of humans are here, she told Adariel. They are here from the North.  
  
Alarmed, Adariel immediately inquired to the standing trees who waved their branches joyously. "Feeeeessshhha issssshhheeerrrr dddeeesss huuummmeee" they answered in turn. The Fellowship was coming.  
  
Adariel stood to attention immediately. Gracefully slipping onto Starliss, she bade the mare to walk on in silence. The gates of Moria were soon in sight. Carefully, Adariel positioned herself on the other side of the lake, within helping distance but out of sight.  
  
Minutes passed, and Starliss grew weary of waiting. She trotted back and forth along the floors of the forest edge, sniffing eagerly for signs of sweet grass that sometimes grew under the cover of dried leaves that shed like flakes among the Elderlings.  
  
Still more time passed. Still Adariel waited. The wind picked up and a whisper started from the furthermost corners of the forest until it echoed the deepest and darkest branches of the thornbushes.  
  
"Iiiiilinnnnssshaaaa! Iiiiilinnnnssshaaaa!" They come! They come!  
  
Doubt cast shadows in Adariel's mind. Old thoughts of rejection came again. After all. Would she not be a burden? She, an unheard of craftswoman from Lakewood, a place where suspicions rise high even among her own kind. If she even mentioned the Maiden, she might be turned upon with narrowed eyes. Reputation of her had spread wide, she knew, and it was uncommon amongst Elven folk to have a heart as "cold as the icy seas". It certainly related to the Darkness rising.  
  
"I shall wait and follow until I may be sure that no grief shall befall either of us. Especially themselves in the quest for the Fires of Mordor." She said to herself, and settled upon the sight of the Nine Walkers before any further action was to take place on her part.  
  
And wait, she didn't have to do much of, for presently, the sound of gentle, discreet footsteps echoed the trumpets of warning that the trees swished that only Adariel could hear. First came the shadowy figure of a wizard stooping with the weight of wisdom and age. "Gandalf the Grey" sang the saplings, eager to play a part in the welcoming.  
  
Next came a figure with longer, curlier hair, rather short in stature. Adariel wondered what it was. It was obviously not Dwarf nor Man. To her, the word 'Hobbit' was strange, for Lakewood was far from any Hobbit dwellings. "Frodo Baggins, son of Drogo. Ringbearer" whispered the saplings, leaves waving about.  
  
"Frodo Baggins? What sort of creature is he?" she wondered, unable to believe her eyes as they roamed to his feet, covered with thick hair. "Neither dwarf nor Man for sure!"  
  
Following the new creature was another of its kind. A stout fellow also with curly hair and furry feet. "Samwise Gamgee………servant and friend of Ringbearer." Murmured the saplings.  
  
"There are more to come?" Adariel said, frowning. Clearly these creatures were very large in number. She grew anxious. Friend or foe she could not tell, but at least she knew she was safe for now. Any member of the Fellowship were representatives from the Free People. They were to be trusted.  
  
So rapt up in her thoughts that Adariel did not notice the next creature, and when she did, she decisively concluded that this was definitely Man. Sword sheathed behind is back in easy reach, the creature was dressed as a Ranger. Few Rangers passed by Lakewood, and the few who did were remembered. This one had passed through, and Adariel recognized him as one she saw from her window many years ago. "Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Heir to throne of Gondor" the saplings cheered, whooshing their cries into the sweeping breeze.  
  
The Man was followed by two more of the short, mysterious creatures with hairy feet, introduced as 'Pippin' Took and 'Merry' Brandybuck.  
  
A dwarf followed, and he carried a mighty ax slung close within easy reach. He darted happily, glad to be near the gates of Moria compared to the drearyness of the others of the Fellowship, obviously not looking forward to the trek through the Dwarf caves. "Gimli, son of Gloin!" whispered the saplings. Trees were not great friends of Dwarves, although they did not bother them anymore like they did in the Old Times.  
  
Gimli was followed by another human, this one of slightly smaller, but more robust build than Aragorn. He not only carried a sword, but also a horn and a large shield as well, clasped to his back. Light hair swaying slightly, he stepped roughly over the broken stones as they neared the entrance to Moria. Although he kept a warrior's gaze, his sight seemed to wander every few minutes to the creatures with hairy feet. Adariel's gaze softened as she realized that he was indeed very fond of them. Years of observation made her a good judge of character………even that of the treatorous ones of Man. "Boromir from the South" the saplings said, but there was anticipation and adoration in their hisses this time, not for Boromir, but what was to come.  
  
And what was to come stilled Adariel's heart. Or at least, she rather fancied it was out of shock of seeing one of her own kind again, as she stoutly convinced herself afterwards when thinking of the confusing mix of emotions, and amongst them strongest was confusion.  
  
An Elf brought up the rear of the file of the Fellowship. This Elf had fair hair that shone golden in the light. It flowed smoothly a little bast his broad shoulders to meet a quiver of arrows strung from his back. He was the picture of grace, gently hopping slightly from stone to stone as they became more and more jagged, nimbly tracing the edge of the waterline, like chasing whisps of air that blew past.  
  
In the midst of the confusion and the battle in Adariel's mind, the fog cleared as the saplings rejoiced him as Legolas Greenleaf, Elven Prince of Mirkwood. Although Adariel knew this in her heart of hearts, and in her mind the letter to her father still fresh, it was like her mind longed to hear his name.  
  
The roar of emotion receded to just one. Nervousness. Now that she had seen the Fellowship itself, she could not help but go back to her old doubts with renewed feeling. Why she should feel self conscious at a moment like this was beyond the understanding of herself, and try as she might to make her legs move, something stilled them.  
  
"Better to wait," said Adariel, resigning. She watched as Gandalf the Grey reached the gate that she herself and read just days ago. "The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak Friend and Enter". She watched with amusement as Gandalf proceeded to mutter things in hurried Elvish to no avail.  
  
"Can't they see?" she said to Starliss, who had rejoined her mistress in the spectacle. "Can't they see that it is a riddle?"  
  
But they couldn't, and they didn't. Finally, Adariel could stand it no more. She reached behind her and took her quill out of her pack, and a piece of parchment.  
  
  
  
Tis a Riddle on the Door  
  
Speak "Friend" and Enter  
  
Bother no more with strange of tongue  
  
Enter while the Hour is Young  
  
A Friend.  
  
  
  
She reached behind her once again and withdrew an arrow from her quiver. Piercing the parchment onto the arrow, she strung her bow and drew it so that the arrow would bounce off the middle of the stone gate and onto the rocky ground below. Finally, she asked the nearby tree to lift her onto its highest branches, which it did, lowering vines to support her weight. With her target in sight Adariel released her grip on the arrow, and a slight twang echoed in the still of the night.  
  
Adariel had to hand it to the Fellowship; as soon as the twang rang out, all nine of them turned at the ready, weapons unsheathed. Seeing nobody in sight, Each stood to attention in attack position until Frodo, shielded by the body of Gandalf, bent to pick up the fallen arrow.  
  
"It has a message on it" he said, with an accent that Adariel could not recognize.  
  
"Indeed." Said Gandalf after a while, when it was obvious that the archer wasn't going to bother them again. Still, Adariel noted that Legolas still had his bow aimed in the general direction of herself, high in the branches of the tree. "He has good eye" her mind noted, before it was smothered vigorously by another wave of mysterious emotion that Adariel didn't recognize.  
  
"What says it?" asked Boromir, sword withdrawn after he realized that it was of no use to archers anyway, and shield in front of him instead. Gandalf read the note.  
  
"It is written in Elven tongue" he replied shortly, passing the note onto Frodo. Adariel noted that only Frodo of the four of the strange creatures seemed to know Elvish enough to read and understand the note.  
  
"It's worth a try," Aragorn noted, finally speaking up.  
  
"No doubt it is. But somebody seems eager for us to get into Moria……" muttered Samwise the Creature. Adariel cursed under her breath, and immediately held it as she noticed that Legolas narrowed his eyes. She had forgotten that the Elven folk had incredibly good hearing; it was something she took for granted.  
  
After a while, he looked away, though he still held his bow at the ready. Gandalf faced the stone gates again. "Mellon." He said, pronouncing the word for Friend in Elvish. The markings glowed silver, and the stone parted to reveal a darkness that chilled Adariel to the bone. It took most of her resolve to renew her promise to follow them for the time being.  
  
She climbed out of her perch and led Starliss near the entrance of the tunnels, still hidden amongst the brow of the shadow of trees. As she opened her mouth to speak, something stopped her breath, for there were voices echoing inside the chamber, and a movement caught her eye in the glassy waters outside. She froze.  
  
"It is no hall, but a tomb!" cried the voice of Boromir from somewhere inside.  
  
And the sound of cautious but hurried footsteps grew nearer. But that was not Adariel's main concern, although her mind told her that if they came out this way, they would soon discover her. The waters were stirring, and even as the figure of Frodo the Creature appeared from the mines, a snake like tentacle curled itself out of the water and around the ankle of the unsuspecting Ringbearer.  
  
Adariel cried out, but it was lost amongst the screams of Frodo himself. "Brrrreeeennna neeeebrrr gaaaaa" Adariel hissed to Starliss as she plucked arrows out of her full quiver. "Neighhhhhhh bRRRR eeeeeee a Galllla!"  
  
Starliss was reluctant to leave, and Adariel had to poke her gently with the tip of her arrow in haste. A pang in her heart as she watched her mare start towards the other side of the tunnels where she was told to meet her mistress. There was no turning back now. It was either through Moria, or her cause was lost.  
  
Adariel wasted no time in restringing her bow and firing the next round. The slimy thing had released Frodo but it showed no signs of backing down. Neither Man nor Dwarf nor Elf were well equipped in water, and clearly these new creatures that Frodo belonged to wasn't well adapted either. It was clear that the Fellowship were being forced into Moria, darkness and death or not.  
  
Adariel gathered her things about her, and ran in after them just as the creature drew back to begin another round of attacks. The tentacle struck an archway, and it collapsed, bringing the gate down as heavy boulders from the very core of the mountains crumbled down. Too late was Adariel in her flight and caution, and something hard and heavy hit her back hard before the world turned into darkness.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Like before, the senses stirred one by one, first with the nose. But unlike last time, when the sense of smell surfaced, all the others were immediately notified. The stench was horrible. Adariel's eyes snapped open. Lying before her, face to face, was the head of a rotting skull of a dwarf, a look of horror and surprise frozen forever on its face.  
  
Adariel stood up immediately, or tried to. Her back probably bruised, but in the darkness, she could barely make out objects let alone set out to heal it. Bad back or not, she had to go on.  
  
Worse, as Adariel immediately realized, was that she had lost the Fellowship. Again. The dark cave was surrounded by boulders and rocks, no plants. Although Adariel could understand the mutterings of the rocks (it was in the blood of all Elven folk, but to talk to them and befriend them was a different matter), but they didn't appear to have anything interesting to say, apart from the recent tales of the massacre and the blood that had flowed in these chambers.  
  
At least she knew now that there had been a flood of Orcs invading. No wonder she was beset by a wandering group of them the previous day. They were quick in coming, and had trapped the Dwarves inside their own chamber, killing Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria and the rest of the Dwarves with him.  
  
Although she was of Elven blood, and surrounded by prejudice towards the Dwarfs, she could not but pity them in their plight, and admire them in their bravery. She thought of Gimli, son of Gloin and sighed. She had to move on, or she would fall prey to the next tide of Orcs and whatever the darkness held.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
2.1 End of Chapter 3  
  
Reviews please! NO FLAMES but constructive criticism is very welcome!  
  
  
  
And the descriptions of the Fellowship are according to the image projected by the Movie………it was easier to use the public image, besides………I think that they look really cute in there! 


	4. Chapter 4: In which they escape the dark...

Disclaimer: I don't own anybody in this story except for Adariel and minor character associated with her, i.e. Maids and other people like that…….. I also made up the King and Lakewood.  
  
  
  
  
  
1 Echoes of the Narbeleth  
  
Spirit Star  
  
  
  
  
  
2 Chapter 4: In which they escape the darkness  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Wondering the many hallways in cautious silence, Adariel was chilled again and again by the uncanny silence that filled the echoing tunnels, once glorious with hidden treasure. Luckily, there was only one main path, and Adariel guessed that it led to the hall, or at least somewhere important, most likely the center of Moria.  
  
Onward she journeyed until her hope was at its end, and weariness was driven more quickly by the closing in of the darkness and the smell of death upon her mind. Her cloak was wrapped around her to keep her warm and her hood was over her head to muffle the echoes that her Elven ears picked up. Just when she could stand it no more and her heart was about to burst with want of light and air, a din disturbed the perpetual silence. The clattering of something dropped deep in a tunnel caught her sensitive ears, followed by the loudest clanking of mail being dropped down after it.  
  
"They are to be found, indeed! Fate plays a part, still." she said joyously, slightly relieved although she did not understand why it would be so in such terrible conditions.  
  
Just as she reached the entrance of the chamber where it came from, and slipped in, while the Fellowship were listening to Gandalf read from a entry in front of a tomb where Gimli was kneeling. "So they know that the Lord of Moria is no more," noted Adariel as a twang of sympathy stroke through her heart, and a coldness tightened around it.  
  
Gandalf happened to look up at that moment, and Adariel suddenly found herself under his gaze.  
  
It was terrifying.  
  
It was piercing.  
  
It was strangely understanding.  
  
Adariel stood frozen, breath withheld, half in shadow and half in light with her cloak drawn about her and her hood masking her face. Gandalf's lips twitched in a direction Adariel could not make out and he looked once more to the pages of his book. Fingering the page, he began to read from it.  
  
"It seems to be a record of the fortunes of Balin's folk," he said presently. "We must be in the Chamber of Records."  
  
"What says it of the fortune that befell Balin?" said Gimli, rather nervously.  
  
"The last entry is written in Elvish characters. I fear he had ill tidings to record in a fair hand. The first clear word is sorrow, but the rest of the line was lost, but I think I can make out at the near end of the page 'We have barred the gates' and then 'can hold them long if' and I think then it is perhaps 'horrible' or 'suffer'."  
  
"Now we come to the last page of all," said Gandalf, turning the page rather slowly. After a pause, which non of the Fellowship dared breath through, he said, 'It is grim reading in deed. I fear their end was cruel. 'We cannot get out. We cannot get out. They have taken the Bridge and second hall. Frar and Loni and Nali fell there' The last lines read 'the pool is up to the wall at Westgate. The Watcher in the Water took Oin. We cannot get out. The end comes' and then, 'drums, drums in the deep' The last thing written in a trailing scrawl is: 'They are Coming'."  
  
A chill passed through Adariel. She had clambered to a grove behind a pole that supported the roof. It was a grove that ran around the room, and with nimble Elven feet, she was able to run across it like it was wide road. She would not like to meet the same end as Balin's people, she was sure.  
  
She made not a sound as she moved to a more sheltered place, both in light and out of the sight of seeking eyes. Although her skill was great, she could not avoid being Seen in such a closed place. Then the words of the Entry came to her mind. 'We cannot get out.'  
  
Light dawned in her. If they were met by the Orcs here in this Chamber, then their end would indeed be that of the Dwarves. Cruel. Bloody, trapped like mice. Her thoughts immediately flew to the Fellowship. Tempted as she was to shoot another arrow, she could not. To do so meant being Seen for sure, for in such a small chamber, the echo of the song of her bow would give her away.  
  
While she fretted, there came a great noise. A rolling Boom that seemed to come from deep below the earth began to tremble the ledge under her foot. The Fellowship sprang to the door in alarm. Still the beating sound continued, like the question and answering that the Ringwraiths displayed. Boom. Boom. There came the sound of a great rushing of feet.  
  
"The are coming!" cried Gimli, as it became clear to them that they were about to meet the same situation that the Moria Dwarves had met.  
  
"We cannot get out!" said Samwise, shifting from foot hither and to.  
  
Adariel unslung her bow and reached into her quiver. Her feet made ready as if to jump and run, should the need arise. Her first priority was the Ringbearer, as was that of the others. Deep inside her hood, her eyes trembled. Like all Elves, she feared very much death in a dark land under the ground where the sunlight may not shine and the stars may not twinkle. Her eye moved unconsciously towards Legolas, and saw that he was in the same condition as herself; she felt assured.  
  
Aragorn and Boromir moved to bar the doors. Gandalf stopped them with a wave of his hand. "We must not get shut in! Keep one set ajar so that we may flee if we get the chance.  
  
So it was, that the company stood in waiting facing the front doors that had been bolted with an ax. Gandalf stood at the rear, staff in had. Gimli had hopped onto the tomb of the beloved Balin, wielding his ax. Boromir and Aragorn stood on either side of the four creatures that Adariel had learnt were hobbits from listening in on conversation. Each hobbit held a knife. Frodo the Ringbearer's glowed tinted blue, and Adariel knew that it was Elf made.  
  
In front, bow drawn, stood Legolas. In his hand there lay a single arrow, although his quiver had been brought forward on his shoulder to give easier and faster access. How beautiful he looked even in the gloom, though there was non of the earlier twinkle in his eye, and his face was grim in the dark as Adariel knew hers to be also.  
  
But Adariel knew that beauty deceived, and that it was as dangerous as any weapon held by the people in front of her. She herself strung her bow in silence, moving her eyes away from Legolas of Mirkwood and grimly towards the door that had stood unusually silent. The beat of the drums and been silenced, but they could now hear the shuffle of feet just beyond the door.  
  
"The have come," murmured Gandalf, shattering the tense silence from both sides.  
  
Nothing moved, and then a cry and the doors bulged as if forced. Several forces hit it but still it stood. The ax that barred it began to break, and the company tensed once more.  
  
It broke.  
  
The door flung open and the faces of Orcs filled it. All of a sudden, everything happened at once. Adariel unfroze and loosened her bow. It hit its target, and the Orc fell. Up in front, Legolas repeatedly shot at whatever creature came his way.  
  
The four hobbits had rushed forward and attacked, with Boromir and Aragorn covering. Gimli was surrounded and cut at creatures from either side of the tomb. Gandalf fought with his staff, every now and then there was a burst of light and one would disappear in smoke. Such as the power of Gandalf, wearer of Narya, the ring of Fire.  
  
Adariel shot repeatedly as wave after wave came through. The chamber became once more drenched with the smell of blood, and the cries of many. Shot after shot, slash after slash until there came no more waves. But then another figure emerged from the doorway, large and rocky like that was what he was made of. And it turned out that it was made from it.  
  
"It is a cave troll!" cried Gimli, recognizing it. And so it was. Adariel stopped temporarily to run for cover, for there were several Orcs who had noticed her. She shot them all, but was afraid that more had seen her. "A cave troll?" wondered Adariel aloud, more to herself. She had never seen one, and hoped not to see another. It leapt around, chain around its neck, using it as a weapon, as well as its hammer.  
  
In the midst of all the turmoil, another wave of Orcs streamed through, and the Fellowship were kept well distracted. Nobody noticed that the cave troll made for Frodo the Ringbearer. Nobody, except Adariel. She knew that arrows would be of no use just yet, for it was its back she saw. She knew not where the weakest spot was, but it was definitely not there. Most likely somewhere around the neck and throat.  
  
Frodo was backing himself into a corner. Glancing around her, she saw that not one was within helping distance except for herself. She turned and ran along the ledge towards where the troll was, unseen by all except a couple of Orcs who were soon dead.  
  
"Frodo of the Shire!" she called in haste, Frodo looked up, and the troll struck, but the movement made if off target. It hit him on the shoulder. Adariel loosened her bow once more and struck at it. It moved off, happy that its work was done.  
  
Adariel scooped Frodo up and lightly and nimbly made for the ledge again. Setting him down in a sheltered corner, she guarded it with her arrows. He was, she noted, quite unharmed and indeed was still alive, though a little shaken. He was unconscious.  
  
The fighting died down, and the troll and other Orcs fled away when they saw that their cause was lost. The Fellowship stirred, and Adariel noted with alarm that they would notice Frodo was missing soon. Leaving him on the ledge, she immediately went and found another hiding place on the ground, but quite near, to wait to see what would happen.  
  
Samwise the Hobbit noticed it first. "Master Frodo? Master Frodooooo?" He called, looking about him at the mess on the ground. "I fear," he began, turning to the others, "I fear Master Frodo has turned for the worst." He said and burst into tears.  
  
Aragorn turned about him. "We must search for him. Hurry for we cannot tarry here long. They will come again. Let us hope that the worse has not befallen him. Did any of you sight him?"  
  
"Nay!" they cried, one by one in dismay. And so they searched, but could not see.  
  
"How is it," Adariel said to herself, "that nobody thinks to look up!" She retrieved her quill and parchment again, and wrote this time in Common Tongue.  
  
"From where this arrow lands, look above.  
  
He is quite alseep, dreaming of the darkest deep. – A friend"  
  
Once again, she loosened her bow, and this time it pieced the rock right under where Frodo's body lay. The whoosh of the arrow startled everybody, and all were holding weapons in hand immediately, and all were trained in the general direction of herself. Not that she was worried, except in the case of Legalos, whom she deemed to be quite an archer from what she saw.  
  
"Hey! It is another note!" cried Merry, who had seen it first.  
  
"Then we are safe," Gandalf said mysteriously, and Adariel saw him glance upon her again although she was sure that she was hidden. "What says it?"  
  
Merry read it aloud, and everybody turned. To their astonishment, Frodo was in deed upon the ledge, and Legalos soon fetched him down.  
  
"Aha! He is only asleep! There are more to Hobbits than meets the eye!" said Gandalf merrily.  
  
"How came this to be?" wondered Boromir, who had not spoken for some time.  
  
"That, we shall ask Frodo himself," Gandalf replied. "Wake you, Frodo of the Shire!" And so he did!  
  
"I had the strangest vision, though I am not sure if it were truth or a dream. After I was struck, a hooded figure appeared from the sky and scooped me up upon the ledge. But now I see it was not true, for I am not upon my ledge, but on the ground!"  
  
"Nay! We fetched you off the ledge that you speak of!" replied Boromir in wonder. "Of whom do you speak? Was it one of us?"  
  
"It certainly was not!" replied Frodo, "As sure as eyes were eyes, it was not. It was cloaked in a dark green cloak and the hood was up. I rather fancied it was a Dark Rider if it weren't for the color of the cloak. It certainly wasn't black!"  
  
"Let us tarry no longer on this subject!" said Gandalf, casting a hurried eye in Adariel's direction. She breathed in relief. So he could be trusted. She marveled at Gandalf the Grey who had hidden depths. "You must tell us about how you survived that blow!"  
  
"Let us see how you fared," spoke Aragorn. Frodo's shirt was undone and when it opened, it revealed a silver corslet that shimmered before their eyes like light upon a rippling sea. The gems on it glittered like the stars in the sky, and a tinkle of bells sounded when Frodo moved.  
  
"Mithril!" breathed all.  
  
"Mithril!" murmured Adariel, loving the sound and the sight of it. So that was what her own armor underneath her shirt was. She was amazed. How had Mithril come into Lakewood?  
  
"Come then!" said Gandalf, urgency in his voice as he bade them all to rise. "I trust you can walk, Frodo?"  
  
After the confirmation, they stood up and went on their way hurriedly. All had forgotten the note and the arrow. Adariel was glad. Creeping up as they made their way, she slowly followed in the shadows by the sound of their voices. It wasn't long before that mood vanished. In the distance drums echoed again. And again.  
  
"Hurry!" said Gandalf. Adariel looked behind and felt immediately shadows cast in her mind. Something Wicked Walked this Way. And it was advancing fast. Suddenly the drums grew no more, and there came a shriek of something from afar. All was again silent.  
  
"Whatever comes here, even Orcs flee from," said Gimli, noting the scattering of feet. His head was still bowed by the thought of Balin being no more.  
  
"Come, we must move on." Gandalf said decisively. They turned around grimly and picked up their pace. Adariel followed on soft feet, although she cast about her mind and every so often looked back and felt the advancing terror.  
  
"There is a light ahead," said Gimli after a while, as indeed there was. "It is not bright, but red. What can it be?"  
  
"Fire," Gandalf replied for he knew it well. On his finger sat Narya, unnoticed by all except Adariel. And fire it was as it stood brightly. The air became stale and hot. The light grew stronger. They came upon an arch and Gandalf went first, signaling them to stay. He stepped back soon after.  
  
"This is the Second Hall of Old Moria and the Gates are near, away beyond the eastern end and on the left. Not more than a quarter of a mile. Across the Bridge and up a broad stair, along a wide road, through the First Hall and out! I remember it well now."  
  
Adariel had a feeling that he could not remember before. "It was pure luck that they were not lost in that gloom, as it was lucky for me to hear the noise!" said she. From her position, she could see that a fierce red light came from a great gap in the floor of the Hall. Tongues of fire came every now and then out of it.  
  
"Let us hope that the fire now lies between us and the pursuers." Gandalf said grimly. "come, there is no time to loose and less to waste!" And so they went, chased by the sound of drums that had started once again.  
  
"Look ahead!" cried Gandalf as they sped across the hall. "The bridge is near. It is narrow and dangerous." Indeed it was. They could only pass in single file, and below the bridge there was darkness. Adariel stirred. How could she make it past without being seen, and still be in a position to aid them should help be needed? She picked up her pace, until she was speeding in the shadows in front of the company.  
  
She still could not find any way of going across. Near the bridge, Gandalf halted. The sound of arrows wizzed past, and the others turned. Adariel seized the chance and dashed hurriedly across the narrow rock easily. It was wider than the ledge, and she felt quite safe. The drums grew in sound, but then stopped. Orcs could be seen running from a great distance away, afraid. In turn, Adariel could feel fear creeping in.  
  
"SSSssssssssssssssssssssssssiiiiiiilllllaaa?" she asked a weed growing in a crack of rock.  
  
"iiiinnnnggaaaasss!" it trembled. "Balrog!"  
  
Adariel gasped, moving backwards towards the stairs. A Balrog! Ancient evil had risen in the mines, she knew, but a Balrog, a fire devil of the Olden Times? Legolas recognized it too.  
  
"A Balrog!" he cried. The others were in shock.  
  
"A Balrog. Now I understand." Muttered Gandalf. "Quickly over the bridge!"  
  
They made haste, with Gimli first and Gandalf last. A fiery heat scorched Adariel from where she was as she hurried up on stone steps. The Balrog was in view. Everybody turned.  
  
"Fly! Fly!" cried Gandalf. "I alone must hold the narrow way! Fly!" The others began to start up the stairs of which Adariel was already at the top of, looking down.  
  
Aragorn stood with Boromir, unmoving. Gandalf lifted his staff. "You cannot pass!" The Orcs stood still, and silence fell in the midst of the roaring heat. "I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun. Go back to the shadow. You cannot pass!"  
  
No answer was given, and the flames seem to creep back down, and with it, the darkness gathered itself. Suddenly, the Balrog stepped forward, it's sword above its head. Gandalf stepped back and steadied himself. "You cannot pass!" he repeated.  
  
The Balrog had now leapt upon the bridge itself. "You cannot stand alone!" cried Aragorn, leaping forward. Boromir followed him. At that moment, Gandalf lifted his staff, and he smote the bridge before him. The staff broke and fell from his hand. The bridge cracked and the Balrog fell to the depths. With a terrible cry, it fell forward, and its shadow plunged downwards. Yet even as it hurled, its whip lashed the wizard about the ankles, and dragged him over the edge where he clung to the end. Aragorn made to help him, but Gandalf cried, "Fly, you fools!" and was gone.  
  
The fires went out and the darkness stretched further still. Everybody stood rooted. Adariel let a small cry escape her. Part of her former self rejoiced that the only one who could betray her secret was gone, only to be smothered by her freer self. She was disgusted with herself, and ran to the gate that was now in sight. Once outside, she fell to her knees for a while in the sunlight that dazzled her eyes and renewed her heart. She cried.  
  
  
  
  
  
2.1 End of Chapter 4  
  
Reviews please! NO FLAMES but constructive criticism is very welcome! 


	5. Chapter 5: In which the Mirror of Galadr...

Disclaimer: I don't own anybody in this story except for Adariel and minor character associated with her, i.e. Maids and other people like that…….. I also made up the King and Lakewood.  
  
  
  
  
  
Echoes of the Narbeleth  
  
Spirit Star  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 4: In which the Mirror of Galadriel speaks.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Nnnnnnneeeeeeebbbbbrreee?" a nose was thrust in front of her. She reached blindly back, groping the ground. "Stay back!" she cried.  
  
Starliss snorted. Adariel stirred once more. "Starliss?" she murmured, gazing up at the mare. The sound of running footsteps came from behind the gates. Slowly, Adariel picked herself up and dusted her knees.  
  
"We ride." She said wearily.  
  
They rode until they were covered in the thickest of leaves and sheltered well beyond seeing distance. Here she stopped and looked around. They were on rocky hills where grass grew in cracks in the stacking stones that built these grounds. Gentle streams ran around the cracks in the white rock under her feet. Starliss lowered her head and ate the sweet grass that grew there.  
  
"Ai! Laurie lantar lassi surienen, yeni unotime ve ramar aldaron!" she breathed. It was long since she had heard descriptions of these places. They were merely childhood tales when they sat upon the grass close to the smoothness of the glassy lake by the waterfall listening to stories that the old ones had. She had listened from her window looking down. Such as it was for her.  
  
"Lothlorien," she whispered.  
  
Shadows now rushed out of the tunnels, and Adariel could see that they now reacted like she had, in grief for a felled one. "But no," said a voice in her mind, "You are a cold unfeeling creature. You wished him dead!"  
  
"No!!!! That is not so!" cried Adariel, her scream shattering the echoing mountains beyond them. There was a clinking of metal and a sound of a bow. Adariel was alarmed. Her cry had pierced the sky and reached the years of the Fellowship now sitting in silence, each wrapped up in their own thought. They were drawing closer to where she was.  
  
"Ride to your homeplace Starliss!" she whispered urgently. "noro lim!"  
  
The mare reared. Adariel remembered once that her father had said that the mare's heart lay in Lothlorien when it was bred and brought up. "She was a gift," he had said. Now, Starliss plunged through the trees and down, splashing through the stream. All that could be seen was a burst of speed and something white and green screaming down the hillside. Up on the hill, the Fellowship started.  
  
"Ringwraith!" gasped Gimli, and to Legolas, "What stays your hand? Shoot!" But Legolas stayed his hand, and lowered his bow. The others looked at him in astonishment.  
  
"Why did you not shoot?" cried Merry, dismayed that he would do something so disastrous to their cause. Aragorn studied him and Boromir opened his mouth in surprise. Legalos spoke up. "It was not a Ringwraith."  
  
"Well of course it was!" Pippin exclaimed, pointing down to the direction of the woods. "Dark cloak? White horse?………Wait! A white horse!"  
  
Legalos nodded. Aragorn spoke up, "He is right. It was not a Ringwraith. It rode a white steed, and was heading for Lothlorien woods. No Ringwraith would venture into so pure a place, and certainly they would not carry white steeds!"  
  
"Then who was it?" frowned Samwise, ever the careful one.  
  
"I think that was our 'Friend'" replied Aragorn. "Come along, Gandalf would not want us to abandon our cause, although how we are to go on without him. I dishearten to think about it!"  
  
One by one, they picked up their packs and stood, stretching and looked back at the Gate of Moria where the darkest ones sleep and Gandalf the Grey lay deep in the deepest place. "Ahead are Lothlorien woods," said Legalos, first to turn his face away from the dreaded place. "That is the fairest of all the dwellings of my people. There are no trees of that in the land, for in autumn, their leaves fall not, but turn gold. Not until spring comes and the new green leaves open do they fall. And then the boughs are laden with yellow flowers; and the floor of the wood is golden and golden is the roof and its pillars are of silver, for the bark of the trees is smooth and grey."  
  
His eyes shining, Legalos led his companions slowly to Lothlorien woods, each rapt up in their own thoughts. Legalos was still thinking of the mysterious rider that flew out of the bushes (what he was thinking is yet to come), Gimli was thinking of Balin, son of Fundin and the fate that befell the Dwarves, Samwise was thinking of Bill the pony, Merry and Pippin were lost in thoughts of home, Boromir's thoughts were with Gandalf, Aragorn was lost in wandering memories of Lothlorien and Lady Arwen Evenstar and Frodo was ever thinking of Bilbo and the Ring.  
  
So it came to be that Adariel, Maiden of Lakewood, made her way to the edge of the wood unpursued. She gazed in wonder at the trees and her heart was glad, for she had heard many songs of Lothlorien. Starliss neighed that she was home at last, and Adariel gave her free reign to wander around the pathways that she once knew so well.  
  
Adariel ventured to touch one of the golden tipped trees, and behold! Not words but images poured from its mind, whispering its greetings with many a picture of sunlight and warmth. Adariel drew back. She knew not how to talk with these trees, and gently touched her hand to the trunk of one and returned its images. Then she, Adariel, Maiden of Lakewood, walked down the path of the Golden Trees.  
  
Starliss was growing uneasy. Adariel began to feel the presence of eyes upon her and felt suddenly tense. She slid of Starliss and began to walk cautiously. As she reached a bend, a halting, commanding voice cried, "Daro!" in Elvish tongue. Startled, Adariel stopped as did Starliss, who was brought up with words such as these. The mare rolled her eyes in indignation.  
  
"Lower your hood, Sir," came the same voice from above a treetop. "Do not move!"  
  
"Really!" replied Adariel, unafraid. "If I cannot move, how may I lower my hood, pray tell!"  
  
The voice was startled, and a soft laugh was choked back. "We welcome our kindred ones to Lothlorien. Remove your hood and go on freely, Sir!" An Elf appeared out of the thick leaves of the tree, bow lowered by his side.  
  
"Very well, as you wish," replied Adariel as she slid the hood down to uncover her face. Strands of golden hair glittered in the sunlight. They were a mess! Such black dust no Elf could have ever seen, for the darkness of the tunnels of Moria had many hidden dusts that scattered at their own wills.  
  
"A black haired Elven one!" said the Elf, climbing down. I have not seen one in a while! Dark haired, yes. Black haired, no!" Adariel was just about to open her mouth when she caught the glitter in his eye. He was speaking in jest.  
  
"Come now," he said, "I will take you into Lothlorien, such as our custom. We were not expecting you, but another group of travelers." Adariel didn't doubt that he talked of the Fellowship of the Ring.  
  
"You are kind, Sir" she said bowing. "Who may you be?"  
  
"I am Elbesth, brother of Haldir. It is getting late, and we must hurry. When we get there, you shall have to see the Lady of these woods, as all visitors to these places must. And I shall introduce you as…..?"  
  
Here Adariel started. "As one who seeks counsel, if you please."  
  
"Indeed?" the Elf looked startled, but said no more of it.  
  
They walked until they were at a wide river, which Adariel knew to be Celebrant. "Celebrant is really a strong stream, and it runs both swift and deep, and it is very cold. We do not walk in it unless we must." So saying, he whistled and an Elf appeared out of the thicket. Elbesth cast a rope across the stream and the other caught it skillfully, securing it across the girth of a tree. Elbesth secured the other end.  
  
"Follow me!" He said as he ran lightly along the length of rope, over the river and off, waiting for Adariel. She hesitated. Growing up inside a room, shielded from the freedom of the trees and the singing of the grass, Adariel did not know what skills she possessed, and nobody had ever told her for fear of offending her by suggestions of stupidness. Once upon a time, she would have ordered them imprisoned, but not so, and she felt great shame at not knowing.  
  
Elbesth waited still, looking curiously at her and talking to the Elf standing beside him. Adariel set her mind. She gracefully clambered onto the rope, and to her surprise, she found it easy to stand on, and she put one foot forward. Going swiftly across, she found that it was as if her feet knew where to land, and before she knew it, she was on the other side. Both Elves raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Come along now, One who seeks Counsel," said Elbesth shortly after the rope had been packed again. "We go forth into Lothlorien." He became quite delighted at the thought.  
  
So they walked briskly, with Elbesth stopping to check the skies every now and then. It grew dark, and night fell in the woods of Lothlorien. Adariel walked on, resting her mind in dreams upon Elven ways even as her eyes were open, as she had been accustomed to. Onwards they marched into the next day, and arrived in the city of the Galadhrim by dusk.  
  
Adariel had never seen anything like it. It was so…pure. Her eyes lit up with the light that shone in the city of Galadhrim. Elbesth saw this and smiled. "You will be tended to and you will dine with us to-night. I will be waiting for you!"  
  
Two Elves led her away, and up vine ladders and onto platforms until they came to a secluded lake. "This is where the men bathe themselves. Call for us if you are in need," and they made to turn away. Adariel grew white.  
  
"Wait! You are mistaken, I fear. I am not man! Indeed, I'm quite the opposite," she said aghast. The two Elves looked at each other and bowed low.  
  
"It is indeed as you say!" one cried, embarrassed. Apologizing, they led her to yet another pool where she bathed. The pool was next to a small stream where water rushed. Thick leaves and scented flowers surrounded it, hiding it from view. Flowers from the trees drifted down onto the water, disturbing it.  
  
Adariel washed away days of feeling around blindly in the mines, she washed away all the blood that she thought would never go away from her hands, and the layers of black soot covering her hair. She dived about under the water until it turned thick with dark dust, and then washed out towards the sea. When she emerged, her hair shone, still bound, her skin glistened, and her spirits renewed once more by the peace that surrounded Lothlorien.  
  
There near the bank lay a beautiful night blue that seemed to be sewn with twinkling sapphires that shone here and there. It reminded her of the stars at home out her window, the only happy memories she had. She slipped it on. It fitted perfectly as all Elven made clothing did to the wearer. It sat tightly about her, and she found it both warm and comforting. The neckline was low, and the wide hanging sleeves flowed about her and ended near her knees.  
  
There was a comb next to the gown, and she unbound her hair to brush it. It flowed out like a tumbling cascade of light that smoothed her back. She had long sideburns, like all Elven folk did, and braided it in a long, thin plait that ended around her waistline. The rest of her flowed bout her wherever she moved, ending around the small of her back. It was slightly wavy, like it should be.  
  
Next to the comb, there was her necklace with the symbol of Lakewood on it. Adariel froze. Many thoughts floated through her mind, chief amongst them was the question of identity. Plucking the necklace up, she quickly tugged it around her neck once more and hid it out of view under her dress. Then was the glitter of jewels, and Adariel saw that the Elves had left her a studded Star-stone necklace, which hung tightly to her neck. Obviously, someone wanted her to be presentable to the Lady Galadriel.  
  
A rustle in the bushes startled her, but she was relieved to see the two Elves who had tended to her had returned. She turned her head away and pretended to be watching some creatures. There was silence, and then, "By Elbereth!"  
  
"What's wrong?" Adariel said, turning around. Her mind was still weary of danger after her journey through the mines.  
  
"Nothing's wrong, Lady." Said the other. "If something is amiss, it would be your beauty that deserves words beyond speech!"  
  
Adariel both paled and reddened at the same time (if it were possible, but I think she just went pale and THEN red.) She nodded in acceptance of their bows, and allowed herself to be led away by them both. 'Beauty is indeed a curse' she said to herself. She had not wanted to draw attention and to slip away after the Fellowship as soon as possible. It seems her plans had been foiled again.  
  
She met Elbesth near the clearing where they had parted. The two Elves left, and she was alone. Elbesth said nothing, and made no motion as to move. He stood staring at her, which made her uncomfortable. Then he looked away and paced, leaning on a tree. Adariel grew impatient. What could he be waiting for?  
  
"I bet your pardon, Sir, but do tell why you are waiting here!" cried she, raising her eyebrows.  
  
Elbesth looked startled. "I am waiting for a man to come so that I may accompany him to the feast of Galadriel. He was sent to bathe before, but it seems that he is not returning." Elbesth looked slightly annoyed. Adariel had a look of surprise, and then laughed.  
  
"What then, Beautiful Lady, are you laughing about?" he said, rather put off.  
  
"You are looking at he!" she said, and bowed.  
  
Elbesth was astonished! "Alas! Alas! My most humble apologies, Lady! How wrong I was! I do beg of you to forgive me, in the light that you………I mean that………." Adariel only smiled, and they walked out of the clearing in silence, embarrassed on Elbesth's part, and amused on Adariel's.  
  
'I must have looked terrible,' thought Adariel, 'for everybody to be so convinced!'  
  
Presently, they came to a clearing patch between the trees where the light of the sunset shone. There sat the Lady Galadriel on her seat at the table, and next to her, the Lord. There were others seated there, obviously of importance. She was unsure what to do.  
  
"Welcome, One who seeks Counsel," came a voice that echoed of a thousand bells and tinkling dew drops. Adariel looked up to see the Lady Galadriel addressing her. She was startled to notice that all the eyes in the hall were trained upon her. She found herself blushing under all the attention, something she had never done before. They were all looking at her like Elven folk would do when they saw something beautiful. And that was saying something because many considered Elven things to be the fairest in the world.  
  
"We are moved by your beauty," noted the Lady of the Woods with an amused smile upon her face, then "Come sit by me, Stranger, and we shall talk." She clapped her hands, and an Elf led Adariel to her place by the Lady's hand. "Now, eat and be merry, for I fear darker times are upon us soon!"  
  
Whatever surprise or admiration the Elves had for the newcomer, it was exceeded by their love of Galadriel, and they turned to cheer her, and she smiled like the light of a thousand stars in the sky. Adariel felt awed. Beauty is one thing, but Inner Beauty is another!  
  
Afterwards, she was summoned before the Lady alone, and Elbesth showed her to another clearing where there were stairs, and a mirror-like pan on an alter. There sat the Lady Galadriel upon a rock, her feet in the stream. "May Elen sila lumenn' omentielvo" said Elbeth, "A star shines on the hour of our meeting," and he left her and went about his way, back to the entrance of the woods of Lothlorien.  
  
The Lady turned. "Welcome, One who Seeks Counsel. Fear not! You are at peace here………Adariel of Lakewood."  
  
For a moment, Adariel stood horrified, then grim as she tensed, listening for the sound of guards running. But there were none. She turned back to Lady Galadriel, who was looking at her with amusement. An echoing voice sounded in her mind, not her own. "I know many things about you Adariel of Lakewood, and I wonder why you fear the title."  
  
Adariel's mind betrayed her as it quickly thought back to the saying, "Beware the Adariel of Lakewood, Beware the maiden of Lakewood, She whose heart has frozen will have yours taken too.  
  
The Lady of the Woods laughed out loud. "Come now Daughter! That is just stuck into the heads of Children! It matters not in Lothlorien what your reputation is, but only your heart!" She stopped, and studied Adariel a moment before adding, "and your heart is the most pure of all," more to herself than to Adariel.  
  
She found her courage again, and spoke up. "If it were just a tale, then why do travelers not come into Lakewood? Why do people not have dealings with my father and myself?"  
  
The Lady's face darkened. "That is not your doing, but whose it is I cannot reveal just yet. It has been many a year that I have traveled into Lakewood." she said.  
  
"Then it is fortunate that I came here!" said Adariel, smiling for the first time. "It is beautiful here!"  
  
"That can be said of you too, if you were a place, little one." And the Lady looked away down the paths of golden trees. "There is more to beauty than meets the eye!" Galadriel gestured for Adariel to sit beside her, patting another flat stone. Adariel sat.  
  
"Yes, beauty is a curse!" said she, with utmost conviction.  
  
Galadriel seemed surprised, "You, of all, should not say that! It is said that the Maiden of Lakewood is the fairest of Elven kind!"  
  
"It may be said, but I do not feel it is so. I know that I must be different, because I cause creatures that are already in love to gaze upon me in admiration. But I do not feel it inside. Indeed, I feel quite the contrary!"  
  
"After being shut out of the free meadows and inside most of your life, I am not surprised," Galadriel remarked, gazing back at Adariel. "There is more to you than meets the eye, Little one. You may not know it, but your beauty goes deeper than looks. Your heart is pure."  
  
Adariel gasped again. "How did you know that I had been shut in?"  
  
"My power does not lie with healing, as yours does, but with things of the mind. I can read yours." Galadriel said, but the last part "yours" was an echoed inside Adariel's mind. She understood.  
  
"And what I see both amuses me and astounds me," Galadriel continued.  
  
Adariel frowned. "How so?" she inquired.  
  
"It seems that your heart, deemed to be so cold, has been taken!" she said finally, looking her straight in the eye.  
  
"You must be mistaken!" cried Adariel, aghast! "As sure as I love to run and dance among the forests, I certainly did not give my heart away willingly!"  
  
"Perhaps not," said The Lady of the Woods, "But it is taken, nonetheless. Do you know by whom?"  
  
"I confess that I do not!" said Adariel, shaking for some reason unknown. "But know that whoever this is, I would simply crush them like I crush all the others!"  
  
Galadriel stopped smiling. "If this is why you refuse to let yourself go, then the influences have run deeper than I thought. I must send someone to Lakewood for a visit soon. As for you, fear not. It seems that you do not know the depths of your own heart! Let yourself go!"  
  
"I know not what you mean, Lady, but know that nobody knows me like I know myself," said Adariel, a familiar coldness returning around her heart. Galadriel made no reply.  
  
"Come Child," she said gently after a silence. "Come gaze in the Mirror of Galadriel and tell me what you see,"  
  
"What should I see?" Adariel asked, coming upon the reflection of the water  
  
"That I cannot tell, for the mirror shows not the same thing to all. For each, it shows many things that is in their heart. It may show you something that has passed, something that is passing, or something that has not gone to pass. Now look in, Child. Careful not to touch the water."  
  
Adariel blinked and leaned in. The mirror was still, and she could see her reflection in it. Then slowly, the waters stirred as ripples swirled outwards, and the colors mingled together to form a new picture.  
  
It was dark. There were shadows cast across walls that wavered in the water. And suddenly, she found herself staring at a young Elf cast in pale light. She turned slowly, and Adariel found herself staring at eyes the color of ice………white. White, yet strangely familiar. The figure opened her mouth slightly, and smiled. A cold, cruel smile that made Adariel shudder. The elf pointed, and Adariel saw that the finger drew to her. It smiled again. The image changed.  
  
She was in Lakewood, where there were Elves dressed as rags, kneeling at the feet of the same strange lady, in fear. They were in the process of becoming Orcs**, bent and haggard. Adariel cried out at the sight of her people down in the dirt, groveling before the feet of the lady. Again, the lady turned and looked at Adariel again. She smiled again, and pointed. The image changed  
  
There in the water, lay the body of a man lying on a stone alter. The image shifted until Adariel could see the face of the body. It was covered with cloth. The lady came in. This time, she seemed not to notice Adariel, and she walked towards the body. There was silence. The ripples of the water had died down, and the image was clear. The lady spoke, her eyes softening for the first time as she came upon the figure.  
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "You were not good enough. It was for your own good." And slowly, a breeze swirled through. The cloth began to shift starting from the bottom of the foot of the motionless figure. From the feet, Adariel could tell it was an Elven man. Still the cloth blew, until it was up to the neck. The lady moved, and choked it off. A knife appeared in her hand. Her eyes hardened.  
  
"I'm sorry………beloved," she whispered. Her arm dropped. The knife cut. The blood flowed. Slowly, the cloth began to slip off the face. It revealed strands of golden hair, straight and silken.  
  
"No!" cried Adariel, leaning back from the mirror. "I don't want…………I don't want to see any more!"  
  
"I know exactly what you saw, for I can see it in your eyes." Galadriel remarked, walking towards Adariel.  
  
"Who was that lady that I saw?" gasped Adariel, backing up against a tree. The branches waved, and were silent.  
  
"These trees are wise," Galadriel remarked, "They can see things that we cannot. When we are gone from these woods, they will fade. They know the future for all,"  
  
"But that tells me not of who that lady was!" said Adariel.  
  
Galadriel turned. "There are things about yourself that not even you know, although you have said that you know your heart better than any being that walks this earth." She said slowly. "Look inside your heart of hearts, and you will know who that lady was. And whom was lying on the alter under that cloth." She looked at Adariel once more, and then up at the stars. "Elbereth shines brightly tonight," she said, and left, leaving Adariel leaning against the tree, mortified.  
  
"I will rest myself," she said to nobody in particular, and curled up, against the tree, forgetting that she was in Lothlorien and not the wilderness. As soon as her lashes touched her cheek, and her eyelids tumbled down, she slept. And what a troubled sleep it was.  
  
Many images passed her mind in her dreams. The lady appeared, smiling. Her dream showed her face again and again. There was something familiar about her. The last thing Adariel remembered thinking was 'she certainly is very beautiful'. Then she awoke.  
  
It was still dark, and none of the inhabitants were stirring. There was a chill in the air, clouds had covered the moon's light. There were eerie shadows that danced upon the trees where the Elven folk rested. The chilled breeze blew by again. Adariel wondered whether it was the cold that woke her, or her thought.  
  
"She certainly was very beautiful" she murmured to herself. It sounded familiar, as if she had heard it from some other tongue. "She certainly was very beautiful,"  
  
Then suddenly, echoes of words rushed into her mind.  
  
"Look Mother! There goes that beautiful lady again!"  
  
"It is rumoured that she is most beautiful of the Elven folk"  
  
"Beauty is a curse"  
  
"She certainly is beautiful"  
  
Adariel's eyes widened. "No." she said. "No! It can't be!" She drew her knees towards her, and buried her head in her hands. "It can't be! It can't be! It can't be…………………………me?" The last part was a question, although she said it as if she could question her knowledge, even though she knew she could not.  
  
She gasped. Again and again. Then she ran. Down past the clearings and then along the path. All night she gathered her skirts and fled, until she came to Celebrant with its waters rushing high. The place where she had crossed by rope was downstream, she knew. She couldn't possibly stand being seen in this state. By then, it was already early morning. She knelt by the water's edge and gathered some in her hands. Elbesth was right. It was cold, like ice. Heedless, Adariel splashed some on her face. Her tears mingled with the water, and they were swept with the current of the stream.  
  
She stood up, and the wind dried her tears. Blindly, she stared into the river, listening to the sounds of the water. The sun was high, and the clouds were few. Nearby, birds chirped in high voices. The trees whispered amongst each other. Suddenly, all was silent. Too silent.  
  
Adariel froze, motionless. Slowly, slowly, she could feel movement coming from behind her. No Elf would be as rough. Her head was jumbled from the images that the nearby trees sent her, and she shook her head. It was a bad idea. The movement stopped, and all was still again. Adariel's breathing became labored. She carried no weapon, and she was defenseless. Suddenly, the movement started again, faster. She half turned, before a blinding pain came to her head, and things started fading in. The last image she received from her beloved trees was one of an Orc. Then she closed her eyes, and her body flopped forward into the rushing waters of the river Celebrant.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
1.1 End of Chapter 5  
  
Reviews please! NO FLAMES but constructive criticism is very welcome! –Spirit Star 


	6. Chapter 6: In which a bad beginning take...

Disclaimer: I don't own anybody in this story except for Adariel and minor character associated with her, i.e. Maids and other people like that…….. I also made up the King and Lakewood.  
  
  
  
  
  
Echoes of the Narbeleth  
  
Spirit Star  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 7: In which beginnings meet  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
We leave Adariel now, and hop over to the Fellowship, which by that time had arrived at the stream where Haldir, brother of Elsbeth had led them on their journey to Lothlorien.  
  
"Celebrant is already a strong stream here, as you can see," explained Haldir, "and it runs both swift and deep, and it is very cold. We do not set foot in it so far north, unless we must. But in these days of watchfulness we do not make bridges. This is how we cross! Follow me!" He made his end of the rope fast about another tree, and then ran along lightly just as Elbesth had done.  
  
"I can walk the rope," said Legolas, "But my friends cannot. Would they have to swim?"  
  
"Oh, no!" said Haldir, looking shocked, "We have two guide ropes. They should be fine if they hold fast and walk cautiously."  
  
One by one, they crossed with Legolas bring up the end. They waited for him on the bank while he walked comfortably along the rope. Halfway across, something caught his eye. He turned his head towards the current and blinked. This was something, because Elves hardly ever need to blink at what they see; their eyesight is hawklike.  
  
He did not see wrong. "What ails you?" asked Haldir from the bank. Legolas made a movement signaling silence. There was silence.  
  
The currents were rather fast, so whatever was drifting along in the water was coming at a great speed. It floated quite close to the rope now, and Legolas could make out that it was a bundle of cloth laid upon many branches that looked like a raft, except none were bound and the branches came from different trees. Closer still it moved.  
  
Haldir had spotted it too. "What do you see, Brother?" He called out. Legolas frowned. He had never seen anything like it. It looked like a dress, but it was too solid. But what would a dress, obviously Elven made be doing on several thick branches that looked like they had fallen in on purpose? He kneeled on the rope (this was quite easy for an Elf) and reached forward carefully. Even Elves weren't perfect in balance.  
  
The bundle grew nearer. Haldir threw him the guide ropes and he secured one around his waist, and the other he held out in waiting. As soon as the bundle came, he quickly threw the rope around it and knotted it tightly. The bunches of wood slipped from under it, and the bundle came under water. Just as Legalos made to move on to join the others and ask one of the Elves to take it back, something disturbing happened.  
  
The bundle screamed. Everybody looked startled. The Elves present immediately climbed up onto the rope and steadied it. Their sensitive ears perceived that it was another Elf. Legalos tugged on the rope and leaned back, using his own weight as a pulley. When it was within reaching distance, he held it in his arms, and found that it was quite light, but extremely cold. It was indeed a night blue dress, as he had guessed, and there was definitely someone in it. He hurried to the bank where the others were waiting anxiously.  
  
Adariel didn't remember much about the whole affair. Only that she woke up once on branches while in the water. She silently thanked the trees, which lent their limbs when she fell in the river. Then she slipped back into unconsciousness. The next time she woke up was not a pleasant one. She felt something pulling from her stomach, but the worse thing was that the raft was there no longer, and she was totally under icy water. The current jerked her body to and fro. The next time she surfaced temporarily, she let out a scream. Then she fainted again.  
  
Now, she woke up once more. Her senses surfaced one by one, as usual after sleep. First came her hearing. She frowned, her eyes still closed. They were in the Woods, and the chirping of birds softly amongst the trees welcomed her. There was breathing far off, and the cackling of a fire. Tree sounds reached her ears. They knew that she had woken up and were asking if she was okay.  
  
Next, her nostrils flared to life. She was lying on the ground, from the Earthy smell around her. She smelt smoke, and food being cooked over an uncovered fire. She smelt the dark scent of someone's cloak over her. Then the feeling came back into her body. It was sore. Battered, bruised, raw and cold. Every muscle ached from being battered by the rushing water of Celebrant. What she felt next made her eyes nearly pop open.  
  
She was in dry clothes. Under the cloak, her hands touched the material. It was rough, traveling clothes. It definitely wasn't *her* traveling clothes. For one thing, they were slightly too big, and for another they felt strange to her. "It looks like its time to get up," she thought to herself.  
  
Gently, she opened her eyes, and found herself staring up into the canopy of leaves. Her head was leaning on the roots of a tree. She was indeed covered with someone's cloak. Gingerly, she let herself up, muscles protesting all the way. Slowly, gently, she sat halfway. Carefully, she lifted up the cloak and peered inside. A sigh of relief was followed by a blush. She wasn't hurt so badly that she had several bandages; she only had one around her stomach which was bruised in her ride. But for the blush, she realized that she was in a man's clothes, and for that to happen, she had to be changed out of her dress. And she certainly didn't recall doing that.  
  
It was night time, she realized. A light could be seen to her left, and she moved her neck testily. It didn't hurt too much. There, sitting beside the fire, sat the Fellowship, and beside them, a strange Elf. Even stranger was that they were blindfolded except for the strange Elf, including Legolas who didn't look too happy about it.  
  
"Oh Elbereth!" she thought. "If I hadn't ran off like that, then I not be here, within recognizable distance from the people that I'm meant to be following secretly!" She tried to recall how she ended up in the river in the first place, and the first thing she thought of was the lump on her head. Checking that nobody was looking at her, she slid her arm to the back of her head and carefully felt around there. There was nothing wrong with it, but it sure throbbed! Even as she thought about the bump, the image that the trees had projected of the Orc came back to her, causing her to sit up on impulse.  
  
Or rather, she *tried* to sit up. Her bruised back ached. ('Funny', she thought, 'it didn't hurt when I was in Moria! It must be delayed reaction!') Her stomach hurt. As much as she didn't want to, she groaned. That sound whisper of a groan reached the ears of the people around the fire. Everybody turned. The Elf without the blindfold rushed over, and the others looked as if they wanted to, save the Dwarf.  
  
"You're awake," said the Elf, reaching her. He knelt beside her and forced her down again. "But you're not well enough to stand yet."  
  
Adariel blinked. "You never said anything about not sitting!" she said rather crossly, then immediately apologized. "I beg your pardon, I don't feel my usual self, I am sorry," she said gently.  
  
"You are forgiven, Beautiful Lady," said the Elf, who had paused to admire her for some time now. She took the opportunity to sit up again, leaning herself against the tree so she could not be pushed back down. As the comment registered in her mind, she said "You are a fool to have called me that."  
  
The Elf snapped back and blinked. "Then I beg your pardon, it's just that, well," Adariel decided to change the subject before some of her old habits came back. He looked too confused and pure intended to be like her old suitors and admirers. She would spare him.  
  
Groaning again, she said, "Where am I and what time is it?"  
  
"You are in the woods near Lothlorien and the time is the same day as when we found you." He replied presently.  
  
"Who are you?" she asked.  
  
"I am Haldir, brother of Elbesth, and these are visitors like you."  
  
She noted that he had not named them. "I am not from around here, and please excuse me, Sir, if I do not name myself just yet." Glancing again at the remaining people at the fire, she decided that the sooner she was separated from them, the better. And that meant going into Lothlorien before dark, when there was no hope of being unstuck from these people.  
  
She turned back to Haldir. "When are we going to leave these woods and head into Lothlorien?"  
  
"As soon as you've recovered, Fair Lady,"  
  
"In that case, we should leave immediately. I am definitely recovered, and don't try to say anything else. I am quite aware of the state of being I'm in because I'm in it and you're not!" she said.  
  
Haldir looked surprised, and so did the members of the Fellowship. They were aware that the lady they had rescued was an Elf. 'What they weren't aware of was that not all Elves sit by the lake and gaze at their reflections all the time' she thought to herself. Out loud, she said "And I've also been curious to know where I got these from." With her free arm, she flung off the cloak.  
  
She was dressed in a tunic and had someone's spare breeches on her. Of course, they were too big.  
  
"Oh those," said Haldir. "One of the men sitting around the fire lent them to you. And if you want to journey now, I should not be the one to stop you, but I can see you can hardly sit up, let alone walk all that way. You must stay here, until either you are well recovered enough, or I run up to Lothlorien and fetch a steed down to meet you."  
  
"Give me a moment, and I will answer you," she said to Haldir. He nodded, although curious, and went to join the circle around the fire again. They leaned in, talking. Haldir and Boromir laughed together, and Gimli had a scowl on his face. Not wasting time, Adariel leaned back on the tree and sent a picture of Starliss to it, to which the tree answered that Starliss was nearby. Adariel was glad, and thanked it.  
  
"I have come to a decision!" she said from where she was sitting. All turned to look at her. "So are you staying, Fair Lady, or should I go and fetch a steed down?"  
  
"Neither!" Adariel replied, "But let me first ask, which of you men by the fire can yell the loudest?" They looked at each other. Finally, after a while, Aragorn (still blindfolded) stood up and turned slightly towards her voice.  
  
"What is it that you need Lady Elf?" he asked her.  
  
"First you must trust me," and after he nodded, she continued, "I will teach you some words that you have to yell out into the woods. Ask me not why just yet." Aragorn nodded again, obviously amused.  
  
"Starliss! Brrrreeeeennnaaaaiii grrraaammeeeeee! Starliss! MMMeeeeeelllliii Brrrrrreeeeannnaiiii!" said Adariel slowly. Aragorn looked slightly surprised. "It is not a tongue that I know of, Lady," he said.  
  
"Please try to say them, for they are extremely important." Adariel said. So he consented, and repeated them after her again and again until Adariel felt satisfied with the stresses and the accent as well as the pronunciation. The rest of them had amused smiles upon their faces, except for Legalos, who had a look of wonder.  
  
Glancing at him, she wondered if he knew of this particular type of skill. Turning back to Aragorn, she said, "Now make the woods echo with those words, I beseech you." True to his promise, he questioned her not, and soon afterwards, the words that she had taught him made the woods ring. None of the animals started, for they knew the language that she spoke of, and a few of them flew off to find the one she called for.  
  
Nothing happened. Haldir smiled. "You see, you must either stay or-"  
  
"Hush!" she snapped. To her surprise, Legolas made a move to say the same thing. He had heard something, and he said so. Everybody stopped, afraid that it may be an unfriendly visitor. Each tensed, but Adariel felt the familiar beating of hooves on the forest floor. She laughed. They turned nervously in her direction. "She has come!" she explained, as if that would answer any questions, and laughed again at their surprised faces. A twig snapped behind Adariel. Haldir stood up. "Be careful Lady" he called, but still Adariel laughed. To the surprise of everyone, she said "Starliss! Be not afraid!"  
  
Out of the shadows of the wood stepped a pure white mare, glowing in the moonlight. "Elbereth!" gasped Haldir, gazing at the horse. The others relaxed, and although they could not see, they knew that it was not foe. Adariel felt relieved that they were blindfolded. If they saw Starliss, they were sure to guess that she was the one who rode out of the bushes near the Gates of Moria. How would she react then?  
  
"Neeeenbbbbaaaaa! Sssseeebrrreeeennnaaa" she said to Starliss, and the mare kneed her front legs down, and Adariel slowly reached out and gingerly shifted her weight onto her back. Starliss made sure her rider was safe, and straightened one leg after another until she was standing with Adariel leaning slightly forward on her back.  
  
Adariel turned back to the people around the fire. "I have made my decision. May we depart now?" Haldir blinked, (and again I voice that this is very unusual for Elves to do) and consented. Soon, they were ready to depart with Adariel on Starliss.  
  
"I'm afraid, Lady, I must blindfold you," Haldir said to her, "It would be unfair to the others if you were not!"  
  
Adariel glanced at Legolas, who still looked slightly annoyed. Adariel understood that he wanted to see Lothlorien and all its wonders, for it Lothlorien was a place of legend, even amongst the Elves. It would be unfair to him, because he was after all an Elf. Besides, she had already seen it all before. She turned back to Haldir.  
  
"I propose an exchange!" said she. Haldir raised an eyebrow. Adariel continued, "I can see that you don't have enough blindfolds along with you, and to tear a piece of cloth is not necessary at a time like this. I would have myself blindfolded in exchange for the freedom of sight of one of these present here." She indicated to the blindfolded ones gathered near Starliss in single file. Starliss snorted.  
  
Haldir considered a moment, and leaned in to answer her. "It is fine by me, as long as you don't choose the Dwarf. No Dwarf has set sight in Lothlorien for a long time," Adariel gave her word. All this was exchanged in whispers, but Adariel saw that Legalos's ears twitched slightly. She remembered again that Elven ears were as good as their sight.  
  
"Very well," Haldir said louder, straightening. "You shall have your wish. They are here for your choosing." The men stirred uncomfortably. Adariel turned to them. "Whomever I shall chose must promise to leave their eyes closed until I bid them open again."  
  
However strange this sounded, as Adariel knew it must, they consented. With silent feet, she moved until she was standing in front of Legalos. Gazing at his face again, she saw the look of hope shining from it. She looked down grimly, for she dreaded the dark, and more so after Moria. She knew that it was so for all of them, Legolas in particular.  
  
Carefully, she reached up and brushed his hair back so he would know that she had chosen him. She circled around until she saw the knot in the blindfold and as she untied it, she reached up and whispered in his ear, "remember the promise," before taking the blindfold off. Her arms were starting to hurt again.  
  
As briskly as she could in her condition, she walked back to Starliss who kneeled again. Once she was safely on, she took a deep breath and then closed her eyes before securing the blindfold over them. Satisfied that it was tight, she threw up the hood of the borrowed tunic and tightened it so that nobody may see. Her hands grasped Starliss's mane tightly.  
  
"You may open your eyes now," she said after her breathing grew even. How she loathed the dark! Haldir stepped forward. "Do you wish me to lead your horse, Lady?"  
  
"No, she can walk herself, I thank you." To Starliss, she said "Neegggggggarru dabbbbeeerra" Starliss tossed her head in a nod in response. "She will not let me fall"  
  
With a heavy heart, she continued, taking refuge in her mind by letting it slip into the Elven roads that it roamed when she was resting while she had her eyes open. There was silence on the road. All the blindfolded were lost in their own thoughts, and Adariel's mind had drifted far away. Haldir was thinking of his brother Elbesth who had told him of the beautiful Elven maiden that he had led down this path just a day or so ago. Elbesth had sworn that it was the most beautiful maiden he had ever seen, but as Haldir glanced at the newcomer, he thought that none were as fair as she.  
  
Legolas's eyes roamed around the wonders of the forest, and he was amazed at what he saw. It was just as the legends that he grew up with described it. And it was one of those rare times when legends fell short of the truth. The light was unnatural and as they neared their destination, it grew brighter. All around there was a golden hue lighting the foliage that they walked upon. Golden leaves floated out of Golden canopies. Golden branches hung from Golden trunks. Even the earth that they trampled upon had a slightly lighter tinge to it.  
  
Something sweet caught his nose, and he saw that the small, golden bloom of the leaner was up in the trees, for winter was nearly over, and some of the leaves had started to drift from their places. Suddenly he wasn't looking at leaves anymore. Something about this place that made anybody who gazed upon it extremely happy. He sighed contentedly. Then his gaze slid to his companions. It was too bad that they could not gaze upon the wonders that he beheld here.  
  
Aragorn was sure to have seen it before, for his love Arwen was grandchild to Lady Galariel herself, and they had met here many times, or so he had heard. Legalos was sure that Aragorn did not mind the blindfold. The Hobbits knew not about Lothlorien except what they had heard, and then again they hadn't heard too much about it. They would not know what they were missing out on. Boromir, no doubt had heard of the Golden City of Lothlorien. Legalos guessed that Boromir minded very much being blindfolded, and felt that the man's pride had been wounded. Lastly, his gazed at Gimli the Dwarf, who despite all his insulting attitude towards the Elves looked quite nervous. Legalos recalled how they imprisoned Gimli's father Gloin in Mirkwood. Gimli was strange to the Legalos, and he didn't know what to do with him, and how to react. They were brought up to despise each other.  
  
Legalos continued quite some way like this, beholding the wonders around him on their walk until something alongside him caught his eye. It was the strange white mare that the new Elven lady rode. Starliss, she had called it. Now as he watched, the horse was careful to walk along even ground only and when the occasional obstacle occurred, it avoided them and took great effort to make sure that the rider was safe. And all this time the Lady said not a word. It was true that all Elves were good with animals, and many could ride strange horses and command them with the sound of their voice, but nobody could make them do what this mare was doing without another Elf shouting directions.  
  
Now that he thought about it, the horse was quite like the one that had shot out of the bushes near Moria carrying their 'Friend'. He shook that thought off. It was totally illogical. For one thing, he was sure that the rider and horse would already be in Lothlorien by now because they would have had at least a day's advantage. Secondly, there were many white horses ridden by the Elves and thirdly, no Elven lady would travel, and even less had such great skill with a bow. Even Arwen Evenstar favored the sword.  
  
Suddenly, Legalos realized that he had not really looked at the rider before, only glances. Now that he looked, he found that he couldn't look away. For a while his breath caught in his throat. She was beautiful. If he didn't know better, then she would be related to Arwen Evenstar herself. She might even be prettier than the fabled Maiden of Lakewood whose beauty no Elf had ever laid eyes on. For a short moment, her hair hid her face from view. Strands of Gold bordering on Silver under the unnatural light seemed to sparkle as they fell like a waterfall around her shoulders and down to her back.  
  
Then a sudden breeze blew the curtain of hair back and Legalos saw that she was biting her lip, and immediately felt guilty. It was obvious that she feared the dark like all Elven kind did. If she had been down to the caves of Moria then Legalos knew that he would feel even sorrier. 'The Lady is lucky, for if she feared the dark, as she obviously does, then to walk the tunnels of Moria would have been like a million tortures carried out by Sauron himself. She is lucky to sit at safe havens for now, traveling where she wills." He thought to himself.  
  
Thoughts diverted, he looked around himself once again at the glory that Lothlorien brought.  
  
Adariel couldn't concentrate. Her stomach muscles ached, and her head felt dizzy from the tightness of the blindfold. Her hands could not reach to undo it because it would mean falling off Starliss. "BrreeenaaaDEghdd" she whispered to Starliss in thanks, to which the mare replied that it was worth it for Lothlorien. Adariel recalled again that the mare had been dwelling here for quite some time before she came into the service of her father, and then herself.  
  
Her lip was starting to bleed. She could taste it. Had she even been biting her own lip? She wasn't sure. Then with the blackness came the images of what had happened the night before, and she could feel tears soaking the blindfold she was wearing. Now she was sure that the Mirror had showed her herself if she were to continue what she was doing.  
  
But what *was* she doing?  
  
Her mind sifted through the words of Galadriel as to some hidden clue. Something about her heart? But what did the Lady mean that she didn't know the depths of her own heart? She bit her lip even harder at the pain at the back of her head. Too much thinking had made her slightly dizzy, and the darkness didn't help*. Her breathing grew uneven, and she swayed slightly. "Hurry up, hurry up……………" she thought to herself, and leaned forward slightly.  
  
Which was a mistake.  
  
Starliss, who had been carefully avoiding things in her path had lowered herself down to avoid a branch on in her way. When Adariel leaned forward, her head hit the branch that Starliss was trying to avoid. That last knock did it. She felt quite light headed, and fell in a faint from the throbbing in her head.  
  
Haldir was last in the line, with Legalos in front. He saw that the men he was leading had their heads bowed in thought. How strange it was to see strangers in these woods again! And the Lady! She reminded him of the beauty of Lothlorien itself. He cast his eyes towards her just in time to see her slip limply from her horse. He cried out.  
  
All the men stopped, on alert. Haldir could see Legalos starting to turn towards him when he caught sight of the Lady, who was riding just behind him slightly. Before Haldir could see what had happened, the Lady was lying on top of Legalos, who was sitting on the ground, covered in a thin dust of dirt. The mare shied up and pranced a little before calming down and standing tranquilly to the side of the road.  
  
Legolas looked at the maiden in his lap. She looked like she was sleeping with her hair spread out like a halo draping the dirt floor. And although he could not see her eyes, he knew that she had fainted. There was something not right about it. Sliding his arms under the body, he lifted her up slowly as he stood up. Turning to the back of the line, he could see that everybody looked tense. "All is well. The Lady just fell of her horse," he said, and then to Haldir, "She does not seem to be faring well. Are there healers in Lothlorien?"  
  
Haldir stepped forward. "Does she need it immediately?"  
  
Legolas looked at the maiden again. She seemed to have an unnatural shade of color about her, and it was fading even faster. Without taking his eyes off her, he said "Though I am not experienced in healing I should deem her to be quite unwell,"  
  
Haldir hesitated. They were near the Golden City, but he knew that if one suffered an injury, they were not nearly close enough for comfort. At times like this, Haldir would have sent someone to ride into Lothlorien with the injured one, but since there was a Dwarf among the party (not that Haldir mistrusted Dwarves, but you could never be sure) and everybody else was blindfolded except Legalos, who was a stranger amongst these woods.  
  
Then again, Haldir reasoned, the path to Lothlorien was simple, and all you had to do was stay on the path. The Lady did look like she needed some help. Nobody could tell how long she had been in the river for. Making up his mind while he was still sure, he said "If you mount her steed, then you could carry her into ride ahead with her into Lothlorien. Take this path and do not wander off it."  
  
Legolas nodded. Still cradling the maiden, he approached the mare. It shied away and glared at him angrily. He hugged the maiden closer to him, and the mare understood. It approached cautiously and knelt. Legolas swiftly swung up onto its back. Once it had stood up, he sat the lady in front of him and reached his arms around the limp form to grab on to the horse's mane. Squeezing the mare's flank, he commanded it to ride onwards.  
  
To his surprise, it was not only fast, but it was extremely light in riding. The bumps in the road felt like nothing as the horse galloped down the path. Soon, he could see the company no longer. Onwards still the white mare galloped. The road twisted and turned this way and that. There were banks where small streams trickled and places where there the earth was clumped, forming mounds. And suddenly it evened again. Before him stood the entrance of the great city of the Elves. He sucked in his breath.  
  
There were Elves guarding the entrance, and now that they saw a stranger, they drew out their bows. Legolas was slightly startled for he had given no thought to this. The Elf closest drew in and saw that it was one of their kin. The rest relaxed, but no move was made to lower their bows. The first Elf said in a commanding voice, "Please state your business in Lothlorien." To which the stranger answered "I come with a company of strangers, but have ridden ahead as to give aid to the one that I carry here." He turned a little and they could see the limp form of the Lady that Elbesth had brought in about two days ago.  
  
"Very well, you may come along with me," The Elf said, and he motioned for another to take his place in guard. "She looks in need of a Healer."  
  
Another Elf took the mare after they had dismounted and led it to a field where the horses roamed freely, for Elves were kind to all animals and in return, the creatures of the forest were kind to the Elves. For that reason, the horses had no intention of running away (besides, the grass in Lothlorien was the sweetest grown).  
  
They were led to a large building underneath the biggest tree in the city. Legolas had no time to admire the beauty of it. The Elf had moved swiftly, and now they followed him inside where the scent of the athelas greeted him. He stood aside while the Elf conversed with another, and then looked up as they both walked towards him.  
  
"You may stay here to-night until the rest of you Company arrives, as we know that they will. The lady will be tended to here. A bed will be brought so you may stay with her, for she is a stranger to these lands too." The guard Elf said and when Legolas nodded, he turned towards the door before adding "A star shines in the hour of our meeting."  
  
"Please follow me, Sir." Said the remaining Elf. He led them into a room facing the East. Legolas placed the maiden on the bed, then looked uncertainly toward the Elf who was already fussing with her blindfold. After several tries, it came off. The Elf tsked and now Legolas could see that the blindfold was too tight around the Lady's head.  
  
"Whoever tied this around her must have had a good arm," mused the Elf. He had taken two athela leaves out of his cloak and was now scrunching them up. Nearby, one of the women had started boiling water over the fire. The Elf now threw the athela leaves into the pot and a spring fragrance wafted in the room. He bathed her eyes in the water and also applied some to the back of her head and then to the front where the branch had made a slight mark on it. Then he rolled her over and a helping Elven lady undid the back of the dress up to the small of her back. The athela juice was applied there too.  
  
At first Legolas couldn't help but wonder why that was, until he saw the enormous bruise that covered it. 'How did she come upon such a wound?' he thought to himself. Now the Elf was instructing the women on something, and soon afterwards he turned to Legolas and motioned him to follow him out. Legalos felt puzzled, then realized that they were going to apply some of the water to her stomach, and as dresses go, they could not do it without undressing her. He blushed slightly, although he did not know why.  
  
Turning to the Elf once they were outside, he asked "Is the maiden alright?"  
  
To which he answered, "I know not where she has been, but not since the days of darkness has anybody walked Lothlorien with wounds such as hers. Though her wounds are many, none are serious enough to sustain long lasting damage." Then he peered at Legalos and added, "You may call me Eldaren."  
  
"Well met, Eldaren," replied Legalos. "I am Legalos, son of Thranduil."  
  
Elderen bowed to him, recognizing the name and said, "It has been long since one of your folk has traveled into Lothlorien."  
  
Legolas nodded but said nothing more because at that moment, the door opened again and Elderen bade him to follow him inside. It was growing dark, and the maiden was changed into a think gown and was covered with a warm quilt sewn by Elven hands. She looked at ease now, and some color had come back into her cheeks.  
  
"You will sleep here," said Elderen indicating to a place beside the bed. "If she wakes up in the night time, only ask for me, and I will come. I pray she sleeps on until she is well again." With that, he bade Legolas good night. "The stars may shine brightly tonight," Legolas replied as way of farewell before turning back towards the maiden.  
  
The sun had set already, and food was brought in from the table of the Lady Galadriel herself. He ate, although he did not feel hungry after drinking in the beauty of Lothlorien. Then he settled himself to his sleeping place with his bow and knife close at hand. With one last look at the maiden lying near him, he saw that a strange light now filled her face from the pink of the setting sun making it look like something that words could not be found for. Her lips were slightly parted, and her breath was even. Soft lashes curled on her cheek, and the mark on her forehead was dimming as a result of the athelas.  
  
"'Tis such a sight to end a day," he thought to himself, then a slight breeze blew into the chamber and his hair fell gently in wisps about him. He slept dreamlessly, while in the bed next to him, Adariel's face smoothed out and with a strained sigh, she made her way into troubled dreams and dark images.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
1.1 End of Chapter 7  
  
Reviews please! NO FLAMES but constructive criticism is very welcome! –Spirit Star  
  
  
  
Author's notes:  
  
*Have you ever tried balancing on something with your eyes closed? Not easy! How about riding a horse with a headache and blindfolded. Even harder. 


	7. Chapter 7: In which secrets are revealed

Disclaimer: I don't own anybody in this story except for Adariel and minor character associated with her, i.e. Maids and other people like that…….. I also made up the King and Lakewood.  
  
  
  
  
  
Echoes of the Narbeleth  
  
Spirit Star  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 7: In which secrets are revealed  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Adariel could feel the sunlight on her face, shining on her eyelids. It was warm. As her sense of smell surfaced from the dullness of the night, she could smell herbs in the air. Somewhere in her mind, something told her that she must be hurt pretty badly to be here. The scent of athela leaves was in the air. It smelt like spring.  
  
Then she was aware of the call of the morning birds high above her in the tops of the trees. Mingled with that was the sound of her own breathing. And the breath of somebody else. Somebody else?  
  
Her eyes snapped open, her body tense. The room was blurry, and for a moment she felt dizzy. She shook her head a little, but stopped because of the pounding in it. Squeezing her eyes shut tightly, then opening them again, she felt the room come into focus. Everything seemed to stop spinning. Adariel let out her breath in a long sigh.  
  
The first thing she saw was the ceiling of the room she was in. And that made her realize that she was in Lothlorien again. The ceilings were decorated with intricately carved lines that made swirling patterns on the roof. Over her head was the outstretched hand of a carved maiden. She tried to turn toward the window, but found it too difficult to move because of the soreness of the bruising in both her back and front.  
  
She then tried sitting up, but found that the change in position made her balance tip and caused her head to spin again. After finally gaining enough height to be on her elbows, her head couldn't hold out much longer and her elbows slipped, causing her to fall back on her back. As she did, her neck snapped up and her head slammed onto the pillow causing her chin to knock against her collarbone. The pain made her cry out involuntarily and her eyes water slightly. She lay still, tensed and a tear leaked out of her eye. She bit her lip and winced. The cut from her teeth on her lip from before hadn't closed up. She drew blood again.  
  
As she lay there, breathing raggedly, she sensed a movement from her right, next to the window. Her eyes closed and she pretended to be asleep, even though her hand clutched the clovers tightly. There was a shadow that blocked the light for a second or two. She had forgotten that there was another in the room.  
  
"All is well, Lady. I will not try to hurt you," a gentle but amused voice said. There was a smile in the voice, but also a trace of concern. Adariel opened one eye, then the other. She ran her tongue along her bottom lip and cringed at the rusty taste of blood in her mouth and wished she had something to say. For Legolas Greenleaf, Elven prince of the Woodlands was knelt next to her, his face furrowed in concern.  
  
"You have had quite a night," he added, seeing that she now opened her eyes.  
  
"I have?" she asked shakily, testing out her voice. It sounded a bit hoarse from disuse. She cleared her throat. "How so?"  
  
Legolas said nothing. In truth, he had hardly slept a wink in the second half of the night leading up to dawn. At first he had woken to find this girl flushed and her hair damp, head thrashing and murmuring things like, "No! It can't be me!" and "This is not who I am!" Elderon had come in and said that she was haunted by a memory that visited her dreams. They'd put a damp cloth on her head and some more herbs were brought in. For the rest of the night, he could not go to sleep, watching her body shake with some unknown fear.  
  
"It was a rough night for you," he answered her, and then looked out the window for a minute before resting his eyes back on her. Adariel suddenly felt self-conscious for the first time in her life that she could remember. Then she brushed that feeling away, thinking, "I am also a Princess, and I need not fear him," so she looked him straight in the eye and said, "If you don't mind, kind Sir, please help me up for I wish not to be bound to this position forever."  
  
Legolas looked surprised. He would have thought that in her condition and with her in obvious discomfort that she would have opted to stay lying down. Still, she had asked, and he had no reason not to. The healers had said nothing against it. So he placed his arms around her back and gently pulled her up to a sitting position, then re-organized her pillows so she could lean against them. He drew back and looked at her. Her eyes looked clouded, and for a minute he was afraid that she would faint again. But she didn't. Her eyes cleared, and she blinked, turning her head slowly to look at him again.  
  
"Thank you," she said simply, before cocking her head. He hoped that she wouldn't be like the other maidens who would smile at him and try to seduce him, or chase him. Especially at a time like this when he was alone, assigned to look after her, and on a very secret mission that only the Wise knew of. Back at home, every Elven maiden would try to talk to him, prying every little detail about him out, or they would flutter their eyes and try to show off their grace. He found it annoying.  
  
But she was different. She leaned on her pillow looking up at him, and where all the other maidens would smile and thank him repeatedly, she just cocked her head a little and he saw the expression in her eyes soften a little. He was surprised, and glad at the same time.  
  
"Are you hungry?" he asked, changing the subject. Strange or not, she still needed to be looked after (Elderon's orders), and he had to do it as soon as possible to rejoin the others who had probably spent the night here and were due to meet the Lady today.  
  
"You need not be bothered by me," Adariel said, frowning, "I can look after myself. I am sure you have more important things to do,"  
  
The way she said it made Legolas suddenly nervous, and Adariel noticed it. "Besides," she added, "I am not in need of anything anyway,"  
  
Before Legolas could reply, Elderon came in the door and saw Adariel sitting up. He smiled. "I see, Lady, that you are indeed recovering. How fares your head?"  
  
Adariel assured him that it was fine, and her other wounds had mostly healed. Elderon turned to Legolas and said, "I thank you for your help, and I now release you from it," Legolas nodded and walked out, trailing Elderon. Two Elves came in to help Adariel dress, and after feeling slightly unbalanced from standing, she found that she had indeed recovered most of her strength. She wasn't really surprised, when it came down to it, "After all," she said to herself, "They were minor wounds, really."  
  
She was led out of the room and into the hall where the healers ate. They had dressed her up in a grey gown that left a slight trail behind her. It flowed like silver, and it was loose. Adariel found that it was very comfortable to move around in, and it flowed around her and whenever she stood in a slight breeze. They had also woven silver ribbons in her hair, and plaited two plaits that fell down in front of her ears.  
  
She was seated next to Elderon, head of the healers. There was silence when she came in, and again, everybody commented on how wonderful she looked, and a few on how well she had recovered. Elderon smiled and after she was seated, proceeded to ask her about how she was feeling, and cautioning her of the side effects of the herbs they had used on her. Adariel pretended to look interested, for she knew all of this, so great was her skill in healing. But Elderon was skilled in conversation making, and soon Adariel was asking him all about how his skills in healing came to be.  
  
By the end of the meal, Elderon had announced to the hall that Adariel was a healer in the making (and here Adariel blushed, but inwardly laughed at how little they knew her). Afterwards, she was showed to where she would spend the rest of her stay in Lothlorien, and to the her relief, it was nowhere near the healing hall. Then she was left to wander about through the city by herself for the rest of the day.  
  
And that was how she met Arwen, daughter of Elrond, called Evenstar by her people. She was standing under a tree in a clearing with the light falling about her dark hair like a halo. Adariel saw now why she was named Evenstar by the Elves. She had blue eyes, bluer than that of an average Elf. Now, her gaze was turned to the sky through a gap in the canopy above. In her hand sat the golden bloom of Lothlorien, undisturbed by the breeze.  
  
It was Arwen who first invited Adariel to her side with a smile and a nod. Adariel felt suddenly drawn to her and went over immediately, although her mind had warned her to be more cautious. But there turned out to be no need of caution in the face of Arwen Evenstar. The two soon became friends, and Adariel learnt that Arwen now resided in Rivendell, although she had lived with her mother Lothlorien for several years. Her father had drew her back to him finding it unsafe for her here in the South.  
  
Adariel's liking of Arwen grew with every passing minute. She learnt that Arwen lead a life pretty much like her own, except that HER father, Elrond, did not actually go so far as to LOCK her into a room for all her life. In fact, Elrond did not really mind Arwen's comings and goings, although she was accompanied by her two brothers most of the time.  
  
"Come for a walk around my mother's land," Arwen offered, taking a step forward and looking back at Adariel. Adariel readily followed, enjoying the company of her first friend in all her years in Middle Earth. A strange feeling was bubbling in her chest and she felt a little light headed, this time not from her head wound.  
  
There came a point in their conversation as they were strolling through rich grass patches that Arwen said to Adariel, "I have told you all that there needs to be said about myself, but I fear that you have not said a thing about yourself. Pray tell, for a start, your name." Adariel was startled and wanted at first to give Arwen a false name, but then decided that Arwen was one to be trusted. Though she blushed, she did not falter at all when she said, "I am called Adariel, Maiden of Lakewood."  
  
Arwen started, and looked at her. There was no disapproval in her expression; instead there was one of wonder and amazement. When Arwen spoke, her voice was not cold as Adariel might have imagined, but one that was filled with emotion, saying, "Long have I wanted to gaze upon you, Adariel."  
  
Adariel was at first relieved, but that was replaced straight away by confusion. "What do you mean?" she asked, a frown upon her voice.  
  
Arwen licked her lips, and opened her mouth slightly as if to speak, but then closed it. "Come, we must see Galadriel first, for I do not know what is to be done about this situation." This left Adariel even more confused than ever. "For now, please forget that our thoughts had ever strayed upon that path of thought. We will go see the Lady of the Woods tonight." Arwen added hurriedly, seeing the look on Adariel's face.  
  
Adariel nodded in reply and the two continued on in silence. After a while, Arwen resumed the conversation and they took up their stroll once more through the golden trees of the city. Although Adariel's mind was focused on the conversation, somewhere in the back of it the words of Arwen rolled around like a fog that clouded all other thoughts. Why had Arwen wanted to meet her, the Maiden of Lakewood who was feared by many?  
  
They stopped by a brook near sunset and gazed into the water. There were sparkles of light on the surface where the light of the sun reached through the leaves. The water was glassy, and followed the same pattern. The two sat side by side on the bank, at the foot of a small rise on the forest floor, enjoying each other's company. Adariel had lain back on the grass and closed her eyes, breathing in the smell of freshwater flowing over the rocks and listening to the whispers of the wind bringing the gossip of the grass.  
  
Nothing interesting today. All grass ever said was that humans were too rough in their treatment, and were always stepping roughly over them, or cutting them down in their thousands. Their voices mingled together like the tinkle of bells, and although nothing useful was said, Adariel enjoyed listening to their voices. Once or twice her gaze strayed to Arwen, who was now leaning against the trunk of a tree, gazing up at the canopy with a faraway expression upon her face. Adariel thought best not to disturb her.  
  
Then out of the tinkling grumbles of the grass, Adariel suddenly made out footsteps coming towards them from the other side of the rise. She opened her eyes and sat up quickly. Arwen snapped out of her thoughts and looked at Adariel with a question in her eyes. Adariel turned her head towards the top of the rise to see two figures looking down at them. The sun was shining behind them, and Adariel could not make out their faces although she knew one to be Elven and the other to be Man.  
  
Then one of the two people on came briskly down towards the bank where they were sitting and Arwen gave a cry of recognition. It was none other than Aragorn Arathorn's son. Adariel heard Aragorn draw in a breath as he quickened his pace. Arwen stood up and the two embraced, each whispering hurriedly to the other. Adariel turned her head away as the two moved under the shade of a tree for more privacy.  
  
She stared into the water for a while until Arwen and Aragorn walked towards her, out of the shade arm in arm. Adariel stood quickly.  
  
"We've been looking for you for some time," Aragorn now said to Arwen as much as Adariel. "Lady Galadriel sent us to escort you to the feast."  
  
"Then we beg your pardon," Arwen answered, taking his arm once again, "For we did not know. Otherwise we would have made our own way there."  
  
They turned, and Adariel followed them until they up the bank where the other escort was waiting. With a start, Adariel realized that she had forgotten all about the other person standing on the brow of the rise. She lifted her eyes to see who it was, and immediately regretted it. Standing patiently in front of them was Legolas, clad in clothes that were a gift from the Lady while he was here.  
  
He was wearing silvery-white clothes that flowed together to make it look like it was glittering with hidden stars. Not looking where she was going, she nearly bumped into Arwen, who had stopped with Aragorn to face Legolas. Embarrassed, Adariel took a slight step back and stood just behind her and bowed a little after Arwen.  
  
"Come then, Legolas," said Aragorn, "We shall escort these Ladies to the feast as was asked of us, although I take it more as a privilege than a task,"  
  
Legolas smiled in reply and offered his arm to Adariel, who hesitated before taking it. Aragorn and Arwen were already far ahead of them. Legolas turned his head had gazed down at Adariel, whispering, "It is nice to see that you have recovered so well, Lady,"  
  
Adariel nodded, but did not return the look. They walked in silence following the couple in front of them, each lost in their own thoughts. Legolas was busy thinking about their journey, although every few minutes his thoughts would jump back to the maiden on his arm. Adariel, meanwhile, was extremely disturbed by the sudden flood of images from the mirror. They came so often that she was sure that there was a connection somewhere to her surroundings now. And she still hadn't figured out who that Elf was, lying on the altar.  
  
'Blonde hair' she mused, about to bite her lip but then remembering the cut. 'Too bad that blonde hair is common amongst Elven kind. It must have been someone I knew, for otherwise, why would the mirror show me a stranger. The person must be of importance to me. And I had said that I love him. Could it be Father?' She thought along this line for a while, until she found that they had come to a halt.  
  
Looking up, she had found that they had arrived into the hall where the feast was to be held. There was a polite clearing of a throat next to her, and she turned her head up to see Legolas patiently gazing down at her. With a start, she realized that she was still on his arm. Arwen and Aragorn had separated each bidding farewell to the other as they went to dress for the feast. Adariel blushed, swiftly jerking her hand away from his arm. Legolas's smile widened. He bowed in return to hers, and left with Aragorn, who was watching nearby, amused.  
  
Adariel turned to find Arwen waiting for her. When the men had left, Arwen smiled at Adariel saying, "You have met Legolas before?" The two waked to where the maids were waiting, and Adariel replied, "Yes, this morning" but would say no more. They went their separate ways to change.  
  
When Adariel came out again, she was clad in dark forest green, embroidered with leaves that hissed up her hem of the dress. A light green sash was loosely arranged around her waist, and her hair was left out to flow behind her. They hung a sparkling pendent around her neck that resembled the leaves that hung high above the city. Arwen was again, waiting for her.  
  
"We shall go down now," Arwen said, holding out her hand to Adariel who was surprised. "I fear that I cannot take your hand," she said, "For that is a sign of sisterhood."  
  
Arwen said nothing, and her hand was still held out to her. Slowly, Adariel placed her hand on hers, and satisfied, Arwen led her down to the hall. All the guests and Elves were already seated. Galadriel sat with Celeborn at the head of the table, and closest to her sat the members of the Fellowship, with Legolas, Gimli and two of the hobbits to one side, and Aragorn, Boromir and the other two hobbits on the other.  
  
As they came down, there was silence. Everybody had turned their gaze towards them in awe. There had been a flurry of whispers when they had first entered that Evenstar and the beautiful stranger had arrived. Adariel felt extremely uncomfortable under their gazes, and although many looked upon her in this way in Lakewood, she was not used to receiving so much attention from strangers. They usually avoided her.  
  
Galadriel stood gracefully, her eyes smiling. "Welcome, Arwen and Adariel, Elrond's daughters," she gestured to two seats closest on either side of her husband and herself, inviting them to sit down. "Please, Lothlorien is home to you both."  
  
Arwen turned to smile at Adariel, half dragging her to where they were invited to sit. Adariel didn't notice, for she was many miles away from the happenings in the hall. Everybody had started whispering and talking, for nobody had heard of How could it be that Arwen was her blood sister? Where as Arwen resided in Rivendell and Lothlorien, Adariel was from faraway Lakewood, and she already had a father whom she loved dearly. Didn't she? Or maybe what she felt for him was that of forced liking. Hadn't her father shut her away for most of her immortal life? And why didn't he defend her name when the rumors had started out?  
  
Dimly out of the muddle of her thoughts, she heard the Lady announce that the Fellowship and the Ringbearer were leaving the woods of Lothlorien to- morrow at the dawn of daylight.  
  
It was all too confusing, and her head started to throb once more. In the midst of her wild thoughts, she heard the voice of Galadriel in her head. "Fear not, Adariel Elrond's daughter, for all shall be revealed to you soon." Adariel turned to find Galadriel smiling soothingly down at her. Adariel forced a smile in return, and tried to calm herself down. But her mind refused to be calm down, and as a result, she ended up pale and agitated. She hardly ate anything at all.  
  
Watching Adariel, Aragorn leaned in and whispered to Arwen, who was sitting next to him, "Why did you not tell me that you had a sister? And why had I not seen her before?" Arwen shook her head and put a finger on his lip. "I had not met her myself until to-day". Aragorn shook his head, puzzled. "Elrond spoke nothing of it, and your brothers talk naught on this subject."  
  
"She is not talked of amongst my family, and less so amongst my people," Arwen replied lightly, but from her expression, Aragorn could tell she wished not to speak anymore about it. He looked across at Legolas, who had an expression of surprise bordering shock on his face, and then turned his gaze once more at the maiden sitting next to Legolas, who looked as if in distress. All the creatures in the hall were now gazing curiously at the Lady Adariel, talking in flushed whispers when they thought Galadriel wasn't listening. But as Aragorn had found out many years before, Galadriel was always listening. Aragorn shook his head, and tarried no more on that line of thought; Some things were best left unsaid.  
  
Finally, the Lady of the Woods stood up, her hand upon Celeborn's, and the guests stood also. They bowed to each other, and then went upon their own ways. Adariel saw Arwen bid Aragorn farewell, and then head towards her. Taking Adariel's hand, Arwen lead her toward where the Lady Galadriel was waiting, under the tree that grew in the middle of Lothlorien. Arwen came to stand next to the Lady of the Woods, and both faced Adariel. Finally, Galadriel spoke. "You are confused, Child. Do not be, for now is the time for understanding."  
  
Adariel lifted her eyes and saw the Lady of the Woods smiling at her. She did not return the smile. Galadriel continued, "In the Year 421 when Lady Undomiel was only 17 and 9, Celebrian bore another girl-child, and she was named Adariel by Elrond, sister to Arwen who was staying here in Lothlorien. But during that time, Eltheran who was King of the regions Lakewood had ridden to Rivendell and when he had set eyes on Adariel, he wanted her for his own. Eltheran was cunning in his ways, and had soon convinced Elrond that Rivendell was not a place for a young girl-child to grow up. Although Elrond knew this not to be true, for Arwen was already a bright eyed young Elf, he had still enough trust in Eltheran to believe his word, and Adariel was sent with Eltheran on his journey back."  
  
"As the years went by, Elrond began to worry for he had received no word from Eltheran about Adariel, and Celebrian had passed away from Middle Earth and over the sea. Elrond soon grew tired of waiting, and sent Elladan and Elrohir to Lakewood to recover the lost child. But again, Eltheran was cunning and had said that Adariel had been poisoned by the darkness that resided in nearby Mirkwood, and that she was not fit to be taken on the journey. It was about that time that the first rumors of the Maiden of Lakewood became solid, for it was King Eltheran himself who had first whispered them, disguised as a servant of his own realm. So it was that Elrond had not seen Adariel for many years, and the children of Elrond had not beheld the beauty of their own sister until now."  
  
Adariel could not even begin to take this all in. She stood up, and saw that the Lady's eyes were turned to hers. Adariel bowed, then said in a tired voice, "I thank you Lady for enlightening me about my own past, for I have wondered many a day why my title was of a place and not a name. Instead of Adariel daughter of Eltheran, I have always been called Adariel of Lakewood. Now I must rest for the night, for my journey is a long one and I shall depart soon from Lothlorien."  
  
Galadriel nodded. "After I have seen the Fellowship off, then we shall meet again. Arwen shall stay with me for a while yet, for she has her own part to play in this quest yet." Beside her, Arwen nodded. Galadriel continued, "I rename thee Adariel Brightstar. Brightest star of her people, to stand with Evenstar in the times to come."  
  
Adariel bowed again, once to Galadriel and once more to Arwen, whom she had already begun to think of as a sister and headed off toward her resting- place. So absorbed in her thoughts, she did not realize that a figure was walking towards her until it was too late. They brushed against each other, and Adariel immediately jumped away. "I beg you pardon, Lady Adariel," said the voice. Adariel recognized it immediately.  
  
"Oh no, the apology is all mine!" said she, before the day's emotions overcame her and for the first time since anybody could remember she cried openly in the presence of somebody else, sinking suddenly to the ground. There was still an eerie light cast around her from the rising moon. Legolas watched in horror as the maiden in front of her suddenly burst into tears. He knelt down next to her and said nothing until the last of her tears were shed and then pulled her up and lead her to the stream where Arwen and herself had sat just hours before as friends.  
  
They sat in silence until Adariel came to her senses again, jumped up and bowed, before taking leave of him and walking up the bank and toward where she had originally intended to head to. Legolas stood on the rise, watching her until even his Elven eyes could not see her anymore. Something was troubling his heart, and he wasn't sure whether he liked the feeling or not. But then he thought to himself that they were to leave in the morn and so he leant back against the nearby tree where Arwen and Aragorn had stood earlier and set his mind once more upon the paths of Dream that only the Elven walked.  
  
That night, Adariel slept uneasily once more.  
  
Day dawned in fair Lothlorien. There was a great farewell to the Fellowship and they started in Elven boats carrying the gift of the Lady of the Woods with them. Adariel kept a low profile, staying back amongst the others who had gathered to see the visitors off. Everybody felt mixed emotions, for whatever outcome, all knew that the Elven kind would diminish and the Fourth Age would be ruled by Men.  
  
Not long after the Fellowship left, Adariel was summoned by Arwen to Lady Galadriel's presence. On the way, Arwen said that she was extremely happy to acknowledge Adariel as her sister, and that their Father, (Adariel found that she liked that sound, 'Their Father') had been notified. "One day you must come back with me to Rivendell," Arwen said as they drew near to where Galadriel and Celeborn were waiting. Adariel agreed readily, although she was not sure if she was really ready for it yet.  
  
Galadriel was seated upon her golden chair with Celeborn next to her. She smiled upon Adariel arriving. "You are leaving us once more," she commented. "Do you understand what it is you are about to set yourself upon again? The magic of Lothlorien will no longer protect you; You must hold your own out in the South."  
  
Adariel nodded determinedly. Celeborn spoke. "Then accept the gifts of our people in Lothlorien and my our most beloved star shine upon you where ever you may go,"  
  
A bow was brought in that was larger and better made than her last one. A full quiver of arrows, each marked with the leaf of Lothlorien and a supply of lembas to last her on her journey was also added on top of the pile. Her travel clothes were brought out once more, the material softened. She thanked them and both Celeborn and Galadriel answered that Adariel was kinsfolk of themselves and therefore welcome to Lothlorien any time.  
  
After changing, Starliss was led once more to her. Adariel hesitated. "Starliss belongs in Lothlorien," she said, remembering that she was a gift to her former father. "She should stay here amongst her kin."  
  
Galadriel said, "Starliss was a gift to our people from the far off place of Rohan, where horses are bred to race the wind. Her home is with them that reside in Rohan. Take her so that one day she may look upon the land of her birth once more."  
  
Starliss stamped the grass, eager to get off again. Arwen lead her to a path that lead out of the woods. "Follow it, for it will wind itself along the river that Aragorn has set off upon. May we meet again someday soon, for I can see there are dark times ahead."  
  
Adariel nodded. With one last look behind her at the golden city of Lothlorien, she turned and sprang onto Starliss who pranced sideways a little. Then they shot off with the rising sun at their backs and when Adariel next looked back, there was nothing but trees and mounds of fallen leaves on the forest floor.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
1.1 End of Chapter 7  
  
Reviews please! NO FLAMES but constructive criticism is very welcome! –Spirit Star 


	8. Chapter 8: In which pathways separate

Disclaimer: I don't own anybody in this story except for Adariel and minor character associated with her, i.e. Maids and other people like that…….. I also made up the King and Lakewood. And I definitely don't own the Lord of the Rings movie plot!  
  
Okay, I've got something to say about the story……and that is I think I might stick a little bit to the movie plot because it is sooooo much shorter. Or else I'll make up my own sequence of events related to it  
  
OK JUST TO CLEAR SOME STUFF UP BEFORE I START:  
  
  
  
Elrond was NOT in Lothlorien…that was Elderon, the healer. Note that they are not related.  
  
Adariel did not say anything to Legolas when she burst out crying because she was too embarrassed to. And Legolas didn't even know what she was crying about, nor did she care to tell him. ^_^ I'll bring that up later probably  
  
  
  
  
  
Echoes of the Narbeleth  
  
Spirit Star  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 8: In which pathways separate  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"What do you MEAN we're lost?" Adariel exclaimed to Starliss. "All we had to do was stick to the road that bent around the river!"  
  
Starliss pawed the ground and snorted, replying that it wasn't HER fault that she had such a TERRIBLE sense of direction, after all, it was ADARIEL who had control of the reins. Adariel stopped pacing. "This is so humiliating. I'm an ELF and I'm lost in a FOREST. And these trees are all Rowans. Everybody knows that a Rowan speaks in riddles."  
  
Starliss said nothing but stood perfectly still, ears tense. There was a soft crack, and the next thing Adariel knew, a small branch of the overhead Rowan tree had hit her head. "SSSeeetnnnddddddddd sseetthhmmmmdddddeelll!" the tree said angrily.  
  
"Yes, but it seems like a riddle to me! All of your kind keep saying the same thing! 'Where there are no pathways, one may lead to you.' Is that not a riddle?"  
  
"Sssssssooodddtiiiiggggggeeeeelll saaaddgidddddddd"  
  
"In truth, it did not sound like advice to me!"  
  
The trees were suddenly silent, as if conversing amongst themselves. Adariel frowned. It was not often that trees could be out-talked like that. Especially Rowans and Willow trees who insisted on establishing that they were wisest of the Elderlings. Here in this part of the forest, Adariel noticed that there were no Seedlings or even Yearlings growing out of the forest floor. This in itself was very strange.  
  
Starliss remained quiet, nervously pawing the ground. Then Adariel could feel it too. Something was coming this way. She could hear the protests of the trees as their roots were shattered, and she could feel the angry puffs of the wind. "I don't like it here. The silence weighs heavily on my mind," Adariel said to Starliss even as she was mounting up. Starliss pranced as Adariel tightened the reins.  
  
In the distance, getting closer, there came the sound of many heavy feet trampling over the forest floor. "Ride on!" cried Adariel. Starliss needed no more encouragement. Eyes rolling back with fear, the mare kicked her hind legs and galloped away over the foliage deeper into the forest. Turning back, Adariel saw, with her keen Elven eyes, the figures of heavily clad creatures that looked like Orcs, but had features of goblins. "What foul craft is this that has crossed Goblins with Orcs?" Adariel shuddered.  
  
Suddenly, she drew the reins in. Starliss threw back her head and reared up. "What are you doing?" the mare screamed, trying to shake her head loose of the reins. Adariel said nothing, but forcefully steered the mare toward the retreating line of Orc-Goblins that had just ran past. "We're following them. I have no doubt where that will lead us to." Then she galloped down the ruined forest track, the feel of evil still in the air.  
  
The sun had moved halfway in its journey from the East to the West. And still, the Orc-Goblins showed no signs of tiring. Or even stopping, for that matter. "We must have strayed far from our path," she muttered to Starliss. Starliss said nothing. Although she was raised as an Elven horse to run many miles without tiring, the heat of the day was making her sleepy.  
  
There was a change in the ground, and Adariel could hear the clear sound of flowing water. They were at the riverside. Finally, the Orc-Goblins up ahead slowed themselves to a walk. Adariel skitted sideways and hid in the shadows of the trees. In this part of the wood, the Rowan trees had cleared up to make way for young pines such as the one she now sheltered under.  
  
The pine tree, eager to help, said "ttttaarrroooi?" What needs have you?  
  
When Adariel replied that she was looking for the one that bears the Ring of Power, the tree shuddered but said that he was not far from here. He had departed the group, and now a Man follows him closely although he does not know it.  
  
"A Man? Who?" but the tree could not answer. Adariel thanked it, placed her hand upon its trunk and looked up into its branches. "The creatures that are near are creatures of the Land of No Greens where the Fire Mountain lies. Keep them delayed."  
  
The Yearling replied that it would, and it was echoed by other Yearlings from around it. The towering Rowans waved their branches in annoyance. "Though we live not for trouble, what you have asked of us will be done," they said. Adariel bowed all plants and creatures around her, then wheeled Starliss around until she was on the other side of the pine tree. Sliding off, Adariel reached into her pack for some cloth to tie around Starliss' hooves. She could not find any. Frowning, she looked around and checked that the Orc-Goblins were of no danger from her position and undid the top of the bag.  
  
It was bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside. Some Elves in the Golden Woods must have repacked for her. Inside was a silky Elven rope much like the one she had walked across when she first entered. There was also some pieces of parchment, a quill, the spare sets of that Adariel had originally left with, a cloak bearing the leaf of Lorien and, strangely enough, a gown.  
  
"What would a gown be here? They knew of my journey and its purpose. Why would they pack a gown?" Adariel frowned. She tarried no more on the subject, except to note that it was a pretty gown, shimmering like silver in the light. Getting out her knife, she cut a section off the bottom of one of her spare cloaks and cut the Elven rope to pieces. Starliss stood patiently while Adariel tied the cloth to her hooves. It was too close to the enemy to speak, although the mare did flick her tail in annoyance whenever she felt the rope was too tight to her liking.  
  
When that was done, Adariel mounted again and wheeled Starliss inland. When they were out of seeing distance, she kicked the mare's girth and Starliss galloped away south, echoing the waters of the Great River.  
  
After a while, the ground evened out and there was sunlight shining through the thinning canopy. On the ground, a thick layer of leaves carpeted the earth, and still more drifted lazily down. Here, the pine trees dominated and of the Elderlings, there were few.  
  
A little past mid afternoon they stopped. Starliss was worn and thirsty in the heat and set out under the shade of a tree near the river. Adariel grew weary, for there was no sign that anybody had been down this path. She sat with her back leaning against one of the taller pines and looked towards the sky. "Elbereth," she whispered, "If fate were on my side, then give me a sign!"  
  
It was peaceful. Winds blew and danced about amongst the falling leaves, and they laughed as the sun tickled their tips. Birds twittered about amongst the higher branches, with the Tewu (Eldar birds) leading the Yelrui (Young Ones). But there was no sign. Sitting there under the pine tree, surrounded by the living beings whose love she had grown upon, Adariel couldn't help but think that maybe she was only dreaming and walking upon one of the paths of Elven dream. How can any place still remain so peaceful when such evil was about.  
  
A snap of a twig far off chided Adariel out of her thoughts. Someone was approaching. She turned and swiftly climbed the tall tree, bow drawn and already an arrow in her hand, slanting downward. The footsteps were brisk and light. Too light to belong to an Orc or any other servant of Sauron in the East. But times were changing. "Look at the Orc-Goblins for instance." Thought Adariel grimly, arm tense and eyes narrowed.  
  
The footsteps drew nearer. A figure could be vaguely made out now, coming around from the other side of one of the trees. Adariel relaxed. It was Frodo Baggins, the Ringbearer. He had his hood up, but his hand was clutching his pocket, stepping roughly over the thick layer of leaves that littered the ground. He stopped in the clearing, looking first left then right, and then looked back down the direction that he came. Seemingly satisfied that he had not left enough tracks to be followed, he continued on. He was nearly out of the clearing that Adariel overlooked, when Adariel noticed that another shape had emerged from the same turn that Frodo had.  
  
It was Boromir, the Man from the White City of Gondor. Adariel drew her bow up again, this time trained at Boromir. There was an unusual madness in his eyes that Adariel had never seen in the few times she had encountered Man. The last time she had looked upon his face, it was not there. Her frown deepened. So this was the Man that the tree had warned her about.  
  
She saw now that Boromir was swiftly gaining on the Ringbearer. Adariel decided to wait until she was sure of his intentions. "After all," she murmured half to herself and half to the tree she was standing in, "It is not worth slaying an innocent creature, even if it is a Man." The tree said nothing in return. It was listening to something that its neighbor was saying.  
  
Frodo had stopped once again to lean on a tree to gather his strength, and to settle on a direction. He was panting from the effort to get away, the words of Galadriel from the Golden Wood still fresh in his mind. "They will try to take the Ring," she had said, "One by one they will fall to the power of the Ring,"  
  
"I must go alone," he said to himself, "This burden is mine alone to bear." Just as he pronounced those words, a voice interrupted his thoughts.  
  
"It's not safe in these woods, especially for you Little One," It was Boromir with a bundle of wood in his arms and stooping low, as if to collect more. Frodo said nothing. High above their heads, Adariel drew the string of her bow a little more.  
  
"But you don't have to choose this path," Boromir continued, reaching out with a spare hand to Frodo, "There are other paths to take easier than this one, and there are others willing to bear your burden for you." He licked his lips, and although he appeared steady, Frodo could see his hand shaking with anticipation.  
  
"I know what you would say, and it would seem like wisdom but for the warning of my heart." Frodo said finally, while trying to think of a way to go around Boromir, who seemed at this moment to be blocking all directions forward.  
  
"Warning? Warning against what?" said Boromir sharply.  
  
"Against delay. Against the way that may seem easier. Against the refusal of the burden laid down on me. Against – well if it must be said, against trust in the strength and truth of Men."  
  
"Yet it is the strength of Men that has long since protected you far away in your own country."  
  
"I do not doubt the valour of your people, but the world is changing. The walls of Minas Tirith may be strong, but they are not strong enough against the forces of Mordor. There is no hope while the Ring lasts." Frodo said, his eyes darting around the nearby foliage.  
  
"Ah! The Ring! You seem ever to think only of its power in the hands of the Enemy. That is, of its evil uses and not of its good ones. The world is changing, like you said. Minas Tirith will fall if the Ring lasts. But why? Certainly, if the Ring were with the Enemy. But with us, will it not bring us a more glorious victory?"  
  
"Were you not at the Council?" Frodo snapped, "Because we cannot use it, and what is done with it turns to evil. The Ring has a will of its own, and it knows only one master."  
  
Boromir threw the bundle of wood down with a loud 'thunk'. Adariel tensed, the bowstring pulled back a little tighter. "I just want it to protect my people! Is it too much to ask of you?!" he cried, drawing up to his full height again. "Why do you doubt and fear? You can lay the blame on me, if you will. You can say that I was too strong and took it by force. For I am too strong for you, halfling," he roared and suddenly he sprang upon Frodo.  
  
They tumbled about in the leaves, with their shouts echoing through the wood. Adariel grew agitated. She could not shoot for fear of hitting the wrong target. "Give it to me!" Boromir cried, tugging onto Frodo's cloak. "Give it to me!"  
  
Frodo could see no other way: trembling, he bulled out the Ring upon its chain from his pocket and slipped it on his finger, even as Boromir loosened his grip to spring on him again. The Man gasped and stared for a moment at the empty spot. Then he darted around the clearing madly, ruffling the trees and the Seedlings, who cried out in protest. "Miserable trickster! Now I see your mind. You will take the Ring to Sauron and sell us all! Curse you and all halflings to death and darkness!"  
  
Then he tripped on a hidden stone and he fell forward and lay still on his face amongst the crumbled leaves. For a while, he was still as if his own curse had caught up with him. Then he sat up and wept. He rose and passed his hand over his eyes, dashing away the tears. "What have I said?" he cried. "What have I done? Frodo? Frodo!" he called. "Come back! A madness took me, but it has passed. Come back!"  
  
There was no answer. The forest was silent once more. From her position high above the clearing, Adariel slowly lowered her bow. "So this is the way that the Fellowship breaks," mused she, looking down sadly at Boromir. "The power of the Ring is too great. One by one, we will all fall."  
  
More urgent things pressed on her mind. The Orc-Goblins whom she had learnt from the trees were called the Uruk-Hai were drawn to the power of the Ring, such was their purpose to serve the Darkness, whoever their master may be. And with the Ring having found a source of transmission, there was no doubt that her friends the pine trees could not keep the whole troop out for long. She had to follow, but where?  
  
Watching as Boromir made is way slowly back along the path of the forest, she waited until he was out of sight and slid down the trunk of the tree, bowing. Then she checked to see that nobody was within hearing distance before she whistled sharply. Starliss came trotting up, unaware of the what had happened, and her muzzle still glistening with water. Seeing the urgent look in the eyes of her mistress, she started and pranced excitedly until Adariel could grab at her reins and mount her.  
  
"Yeeeliiaiaaad beegggiiiiiii diiiitgeeeeee Tsdddddddd?" she called to the plants of the forest, "Where is the Bearer of the Ring of Power?"  
  
"Sula Deba Gesg Olada?" she called to the creatures that flew from the rafters and the animals that scurried amongst the dirt.  
  
"He has gone to the summit of Amon Hen and there, Aragorn Arathorn's son is with him, but we can not see anymore; our kinsfolk end there." Replied the trees  
  
"He is in great danger, for the Orc-Goblins are coming with great speed, drawn to the Ring that we do not speak about. Aragorn Arathorn's son is with him." Said the darting sparrows as they flitted in and out of the treetops. One of them came closer, followed by two others and the stopped on a log nearby. "I am Redtail," he chirped, "And these are my brothers, Yellowfeather and Blueruff. We will lead you there, but no more shall we go. Our place is here, within these woods."  
  
They flew away as soon as they stopped chirping. "Where they fly, we follow," Adariel cried to Starliss, who was already galloping away behind the birds. So fast did they fly that Adariel had no time to wonder about what was to be done once they got there. Soon, the summit was in view and Adariel could see Aragorn kneeling in front of the Ringbearer, his hand cupped under Frodo's fist, closing it. But not before Adariel saw a glint of gold in it.  
  
"I would have gone with you until the very end. Into the fires of Mordor itself," she heard Aragorn say, and the voice of Frodo answering, "I know you would have." Then beyond their voices came the crunching of heavy footsteps, purposeful and precise in the near distance and advancing fast. Adariel looked wildly for a place to position herself in the anticipation of a full on attack. There was no way other than to climb on top of the crumbling battlement that they were in, because the line of pine trees had ended just beyond helping distance.  
  
"Stay until I call for you, or if I flee, then follow me where I go," she said to Starliss, and secured her pack onto the mare, taking only her bow and quiver. Swiftly, she vaulted herself up the slabs of crumbling white- stone and up to the top of the ruins to crouch in wait behind the carved edge that rose up slightly. She could see them now, walking swiftly with the blades of grass writhering beneath their feet. One rose slightly taller than the rest, and had a white handprint on its face. They marched faster still.  
  
Aragorn had heard the sound of the Orc-Goblins too, and even as Adariel looked, Frodo turned and fled into the distance. Aragorn unsheathed his sword and stepped forward around the slab of rock that was hiding him from view. The biggest Orc-Goblin spoke. "Find the Halfling. Kill the rest," and the Orc-Goblins broke out in a run, charging at Aragorn, with some dashing past him into the treeline behind Adariel.  
  
Adariel had no time to stop them. Her bow sang as she fired shot after shot, hitting row upon row of the hideous creatures that were before her. Still more came. The biggest Orc-Goblin with the white hand mark on his face slipped past them and went with the other Orc-Goblins that were escaping through the trees in their pursuit of the Ring. On the way, he spat on the ground near Aragorn.  
  
Adariel heard the sound of running footsteps to her right: one light and swift, one heavy and slow. Out of the foliage came Gimli Gloin's son and Legolas, bow already drawn. Upon breaking free of the leaves that surrounded them, he released the bowstring and the Orc-Goblin in front of him fell. Adariel watched him for a moment, forgetting herself. Legolas had swiftly made his way to Aragorn's side. As an Orc-Goblin came up behind him, he reached in his quiver and whipped out an arrow, swiftly stabbing the creature on its back. Not wasting a moment, he gracefully strung the same arrow to his bow and shot another one.  
  
A slight breeze blew and it seemed to Adariel that his movements became smoother, with his hair floating gently behind him, shining white in the bright late afternoon sun. So dazed was Adariel that she did not move in time when an Orc-Goblin looked up and saw her, firing an arrow in her direction. It glanced off her cheek, drawing blood and bringing Adariel back to her senses.  
  
There was a sharp sting as the blade end of the arrow passed through her skin, and she automatically slapped a hand to her cheek. It came away red with blood, although she did not feel it flowing down her jawbone. That meant the cut was not deep. Swinging her bow up once more, she shot with renewed resolve. Far in the distance, a horn sounded. The clear ringing echoed through the wood and died down again. Three times the horn sounded. Three times it died down.  
  
And suddenly it was over. The last remaining Orc-Goblin fell to Gimli's axe. "Boromir!" gasped Aragorn, recovering. "The horn of Gondor!" And away he leapt, over the bodies of the fallen Orcs-Goblins and into the trees where the rest of them had fled in their pursuit. Adariel paled, cursing herself for not thinking of it earlier. Of course. There were four halflings altogether, and she had only seen one of them so far. The other three were probably in grave danger by now, not to mention Boromir, Man of Gondor, who had only his sword and not his shield on him.  
  
She could see the retreating backs of Legolas and Gimli now, and she leapt down from the roof of the battlement, bow still in hand. Starliss came to her out of the dense foliage to her right, hooves beating with understanding. Adariel jumped up onto the white mare and they galloped as fast as they could down the uneven hillside and into the trees once more. Here, Redtail and his brothers came to their aid again.  
  
They darted side to side in front of the galloping horse, and once more, Redtail told Adariel to follow. "We will lead you through a different track than that of the Man, Elf, and Dwarf who give chase. It is quicker this way." As Starliss sped away behind the three sparrows, Adariel vaguely wondered why the birds, who usually kept to themselves, would opt to help her. She could see no gain on their part. As if reading her thoughts, Blueruff darted back from the formation and flew beside Adariel's head. She held a hand out and he landed, his talons closing around her finger.  
  
"Do not underestimate to knowledge of my people," he chirped. "We are not as old as the Trees, but we have many ways of our own. The Eldest Tewu of our people has foreseen a great darkness on the land that will smother us all. My brothers and I are the sons of Whitewing, firstborn son of the Great Tewu, sent to help you on your quest…may the wishes of all free folk and living things go with you," he added. Then he flew ahead to join his brothers without waiting for a response from Adariel.  
  
Suddenly, the three birds veered upwards in a sharp turn and scattered, each flying in a different direction, but all headed upwards to the safety of the tree tops. Starliss shied back and stamped her hooves. "We are of no help to you anymore," called Yellowfeather, hovering for a moment, "Although we will follow you, and aid you the best we can. Gadt Tetus Tadnli," he said as way of parting: Sing with the Dawning.  
  
And then he too was gone. Adariel jumped off Starliss and nodded for her to stay hidden, but close by. She could hear the sounds of battle from nearby. She ran lightly over the scattered leaves, picking up her pace as she went. The sounds grew louder now, and Adariel could tell that there were many Orc- Goblins. She could hear the screams of the two other Hobbits (but where was the third?) and the roar of Boromir. The horn of Gondor sounded again.  
  
Feeling the need to get there faster, she quickly scurried up a tree, and then jumped from branch to branch. The trees helped her across their limbs, extending the occasional vine (if they had them) across to their neighbor for Adariel to walk across.  
  
Then she was there over the top of the battleground. It was similar to the clearing that she had loomed over before, but now she saw that it was a little rockier, the ground made uneven. Without hesitating, she unslung her bow and grabbed three arrows from her quiver. They hit their targets, and she immediately reached back to grab three more.  
  
Suddenly she stopped, her keen eyes picking up a movement to the left. It was the Uruk-Hai with the handprint on its face. He had his bow drawn, eyeing Boromir from the top of the mound that he was on. Adariel shot an arrow in his direction, but he was too far away even for a bow from Lothlorien. There was nothing she could do. Horror stilled her hand, and she could only watch as the first arrow hit Boromir. She watched as his body jerked, and he clapped a hand toward the arrow wound. But he swung around despite it and continued with his sword in hand.  
  
And then the second hit, and then the third. His sword cluttered to the ground, and the Orcs knew that he had fallen at last. As Boromir knelt there amongst the fallen leaves, the band of Orcs marched past him, grabbing the two Hobbits and swinging them over their shoulders. Some spat at Boromir on their way. Then the One with the White handprint walked past, but stopped on a rise a little way past him. She saw him turn and lift his bow up, fitted with a single black feathered arrow. Boromir looked upward. The Orc-Goblin grinned and pulled back the bowstring.  
  
Adariel whipped her hand back and grabbed the remaining arrow in her quiver. "Maybe the Orc-Goblin is too far away," she thought, "but his arrow is not." So she carefully drew her bow, aiming it in the empty space between the two. Her hand shook slightly, but she stilled it with a command. She could hear the clattering of running boots now, stumbling a little every now and then. Adariel paid it no heed. She bit her lip, forgetting the previous wound on it.  
  
The black-feathered arrow was released the instant Aragorn jumped into the clearing. "No!" he cried when he saw the arrow fly. At the same moment, Adariel had shot her arrow. It flew, and just as the Orc arrow neared Boromir's heart, her arrow collided with it, pinning it on the ground sideways. She breathed a sigh of relief, but then immediately leapt up from her position and leapt from branch to branch until she was right over where Boromir now lay, leaning against the trunk of the tree.  
  
Adariel contemplated what to do. She had run out of arrows, and if danger arose, she would not be able to save herself. Aragorn's sword was out, and he was now ducking from the blows of the Orc-Goblin. Even as Adariel watched, he was suddenly thrown back against a nearby tree. The Orc-Goblin threw a dark shield at him, and it pinned his neck to the tree. The thing smiled and lifted its sword, about to hammer the shield in and server Aragorn's neck. Aragorn tried in vain to struggle free from the shield.  
  
"No!" cried Adariel clearly, and to the tree, "Sstttggeeppp mellloo!" (Free him!). Her voice rang out through the forest. The tree that the shield was pinned to stripped away the layer of bark, and the black shield cluttered to the ground with a 'thunk'. The Orc-Goblin looked up, and Adariel saw its leering stare loom straight at her. It stopped her breath to gaze directly at something so evil. She threw her hood back up and shut her eyes.  
  
There was a whipping noise, and when Adariel opened her eyes, she saw that Aragorn had taken the opportunity while the Orc-Goblin was distracted to swing his sword and chop off the creature's head. It now lay on the ground, its stare still on Adariel. She looked away, breathing heavily. Aragorn ran to kneel at Boromir's side.  
  
More footsteps came, Legolas and Gimli jumped into the clearing, just past where Aragorn had entered. Adariel couldn't bear the looks on their faces when they realized that Boromir was dying. Legolas' was one of shock and dismay. His eyes looked from alert to distressed. Gimli's face mirrored what was on the Elf's. It was in that moment that Adariel made her decision. "After all," she reasoned with herself in the split seconds after, "I'm expendable, and they are not."  
  
She dropped her bow and left it in the treetop. Legolas immediately raised his bow again, the arrow aimed at her, but she raised her hand. He lowered it a little, but kept the arrow to the string. Gimli looked at her also, and gripped his axe tightly. She jumped from the tree and landed lightly at Aragorn's side. He turned, startled. She pushed him roughly away and leaned over Boromir. He was still alive, although she could feel Death starting to creep into his heart.  
  
Aragorn drew his sword, but Adariel raised her hand up again. Slowly, he lowered it, but only slightly. Adariel turned her eyes back to Boromir. Her hand gripped the first arrow in his chest. Behind her, she could hear the bowstring tighten. Making up her mind, she quickly yanked the arrow out. It came away bloodied nearly halfway up the shaft. Boromir jerked and cried out weakly. Adariel ducked as the arrow came over the top of her head.  
  
"I mean no harm!" she said, annoyed, but at the same time glad for the cover of her hood. She pulled out another arrow, and then the third, feeling the tension grow in the air. Aragorn had raised his sword again. Deliberately, she threw the three arrows at Aragorn's feet, and turned back to Boromir.  
  
His breathing grew shallow now, and if Adariel's ears were that of a human, then she would not have heard him draw breath at all. She took a deep breath herself, and narrowed her eyes. Once she started, there would be no turning back. And she had to do it quick. Boromir was already on the brink of death.  
  
Slowly, she placed one hand over Boromir's heart, and one hand over her own, closed her eyes. She opened her mouth and took another deep breath before her voice flowed, and she said: (In Elvish, but I'll just write the translation)  
  
Three things that belong to me:  
  
Mine to give, to use freely.  
  
First of the heart  
  
Then of the soul  
  
And the thing I give now,  
  
The Spirit Key  
  
  
  
From me I now pass to you,  
  
The gift of life, and sight of truth.  
  
The Key I use  
  
To swap your pain  
  
With mine, until  
  
you are healed again.  
  
Her words trailed off thinly near the end, but she forced herself to go on. She could feel it as she chanted. The gash on her cheek had closed, but she could feel the sticky ooze of blood on her chest, her stomach and her shoulder. They were Boromir's arrow wounds appearing on her. And beside her, Adariel knew, Boromir's wounds would have closed by now, although the gash on her cheek would have transferred itself there.  
  
She gasped for breath.  
  
There came a rush of footsteps as she fell on her side next to Boromir. She knew that the blood was starting to seep through her clothes now. She lifted a hand to her shoulder and felt a dip in her skin. A very deep dip that she knew to be a hole. She was finding it hard to breathe now. Something was coming up her throat, something that tasted like rusted metal. She opened her lips slightly and felt something wet run down the side of her cheek.  
  
Shapes were crowding around Boromir. From somewhere far away, someone said, "There is a gash on his cheek, but the arrow wounds are no more! Look! He sleeps!"  
  
Suddenly she was aware that she was being propped up, with warm arms around her. She was vaguely aware that they had thrown her hood back because now she could feel the sunlight shining around her. "But wait," she thought dimly, "The forest is dark, yet everything is covered with light, brighter than that of Lothlorien."  
  
It wasn't so bad not being able to breathe now. She felt the less air she got, the quicker it would be. She couldn't taste the blood in her mouth anymore, and she couldn't feel it running down the side of her neck either. In fact, she couldn't even feel the pain from the arrow wounds. There were wisps of light hair in front of her face. They looked like they didn't belong. They definitely *felt* like they didn't belong. Then a face was in front of her, and she felt like she was being shaken. Very roughly.  
  
Someone was calling "Wake up! Wake up!" The voice sounded so much like music. But harsh music that didn't belong where she was. She tried to speak, and felt the blood bubbling from her mouth again. "I…feel……………so…………….tired," she said. The light was brighter now. So bright it hurt her eyes. But the shaking was so annoying. "Stop………Leave…..me….in…peace," she mumbled. The shaking stopped.  
  
There were three figures leaning over her, and a fourth one lying beside her. One knelt. "Go with the blessings of all free folk," it whispered, and then Adariel heard no more.  
  
There was a breeze that moaned, and it seemed that the whole forest groaned. Leaves fell like snow on top of her. To Legolas, who stood knelt at her side, it seemed that the very earth moaned her passing. She lay there, and her features became smooth as though she slept. He couldn't quite place her, for her hair was bound and covered by the rest of the cloak. He was sure he knew her from somewhere before. This made him even more saddened by the lost of the stranger. She was beautiful, he realized after a moment's stare, and even more so if she were clad in an Elven gown. Something made him feel like he wanted to reach out and touch her, but he stayed his hand.  
  
Aragorn and Gimli stood silent, heads bowed and tears in their eyes. Even if they did not know the stranger, they mourned the passing of something beautiful. Something that made even the forest cry out. Boromir slept on.  
  
Many creatures came, mostly birds, and gathered around the body. Suddenly, all was silent, and three birds flew forth from the branches of the tree they were beneath. Legolas watched in wonder as they formed a guard around the crown of her head. One had a red tail, one had a yellow feather, and one had a patch of blue fluff at its throat. They called, and the gathered creatures answered. Then something amazing happened.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
1.1 End of Chapter 8  
  
Reviews please! NO FLAMES but constructive criticism is very welcome! –Spirit Star  
  
  
  
OK. BEFORE YOU START COMPLAINING, I WOULD LIKE TO STATE THAT this is not the end. ADARIEL IS NOT GOING TO DISAPPEAR YET. DID YOU THINK THAT I WOULD END HERE WHEN IT'S NOT EVEN ONE HALF OF THE WAY THROUGH THE PLOT??? 


	9. Chapter 9: In which the Road goes ever o...

Disclaimer: I don't own anybody in this story except for Adariel and minor character associated with her, i.e. Maids and other people like that…….. I also made up the King and Lakewood.  
  
  
  
  
  
Echoes of the Narbeleth  
  
Spirit Star  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 10: In which the Road goes ever on  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Slowly, like a wave that swells from the depths of the sea, birdsong chimed eerily making the forest echo with strange, hollow melody. And then the creatures from on the ground joined in, their deeper voices shadowing the twinkling of the birds. The wind picked up. The trees moaned and the leaves made whispering whistles that flowed over the top of the song. The three birds stepped forward, each standing next to one of the arrow wounds.  
  
Gimli made a move as if to shoo the off, scowling, but Legolas reached out an arm to stop him, not taking his eyes of the girl. "But they're going to peck the wo –" spluttered Gimli. This time it was Aragorn who shushed him. The birds had spread their wings and lifted their heads to the sky, their beaks open in song. Then they flew upwards, swirling up toward the light of the setting sun that reached into the woods as beams.  
  
It looked as if they were in a dance at first, with the leaves rustling about them as the wind from their wings blew them slightly off course as they fell. Higher and higher they flew, with all the creatures' voices following them until they flew together again, the color of their feathers mingling with each other under the cover of the reddening sky. Then the song swelled up like the breaking of a wave, and then only the echoes of the haunting voices existed in the minds of all.  
  
The three birds fell back on their wings and crumbled toward the ground in a graceful arc, their motions slowed under the dancing rays of the fading light. They hit the ground as one, each with its wings folded over its chest, tail feathers spread like a fan. There was silence now, and the echoes of the song faded away with the darkening sky. One by one, the land creatures began to turn, their heads bowed. The deer walked with their proud antlers draped on the ground, and the squirrels with their tails dragging until at last only the birds remained silently in the trees. And they too, left with the rising of the first star of the evening, each swooping lower than they usually flew back to the comforts of their nest.  
  
And Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn stood alone over the two forms lying on the floor and the three bodies next to them. Boromir stirred, and they snapped out of their daze and went to his side.  
  
"Am I in the Halls of the Dead?" Boromir murmured, for his vision had not yet cleared, and he saw only shadows with the light of the darkening sky behind them so that they looked like they were surrounded by it and were a part of it.  
  
"No," said Aragorn, leaning over him and nimbly checking him over for additional wounds; he found none. "And may you wait long before you fly to join their number."  
  
"How came this to be?" Boromir asked, still leaning against the tree, "The last thing that I remember…" he fell silent, as if he did not want to voice the last thing he remembered. Aragorn answered instead for him, "You were on the brink of death, that even the wisest could bring you out of. Save one. The one who lies beside you now," and he looked up toward Legolas who was cradling the girl in his arms. She looked so familiar.  
  
Boromir turned his head and saw the girl held in the Elf's arms. And suddenly he knew who she was. "Adariel Arwen's sister," he murmured, and then fell unconscious once again, leaving the surprised stares of Gimli, Legolas and Aragorn trailing behind him.  
  
"Of course!" cried Gimli, his beard shaking with his jaws. "It is Evenstar's sister!"  
  
"Arwen's sister? Adariel?" said Aragorn, surprised, glad and grim at the same time. He knew that if anything happened to her sister, Arwen would be desolate. Which meant, he concluded, that they had to protect Adariel at all times. "Is she alright?" he asked Legolas.  
  
"She's asleep," he said hardly containing the wonder in his voice, "She's asleep when she ought to have passed beyond the reigns of mortality,"  
  
"What of her wounds?" said Aragorn sharply, although he suspected that somehow they were gone already. And he turned out to be right. "They're…not there any more," said Legolas as he skillfully checked her shoulder, stomach and chest around where the blood stains were, hardly hiding a blush at where his fingers were brushing. And he wondered in his mind how important she must be that the creatures of the forest themselves would sacrifice their lives for her.  
  
"We must move on soon," Aragorn replied, turning for a minute to gaze into the distance. "Pippin and Merry have been taken by the enemy, and when the moon rises, these woods will be alive with Orcs and other foul creatures that I dare not mention." He began to look worried. "We have two wounded people and we are on foot,"  
  
Here, Boromir protested that he could stand, and to show them all, he stood. They were amazed. "You've come back from the path of Death and already you can walk!" exclaimed Gimli, head shaking. "Witch work," he muttered darkly, eyeing Adariel who was still asleep cradled in Legolas's arms.  
  
Boromir tested himself, first jumping up and down, and then swinging his arms about a little. He wasn't aware of where he was going, and his arm knocked against the side of the tree. "Ah!" He exclaimed, holding the bumped wrist in his other hand. In Legolas's arms, Adariel stirred. Legolas looked down, as did Aragorn and Gimli.  
  
"She's waking," said Gimli unnecessarily.  
  
  
  
  
  
Adariel stirred, and a small moan escaped her lips, but she kept her eyes shut. She was confused, and slightly annoyed. "Maybe not slightly," she admitted, "Very annoyed." The golden haze that had surrounded her had made her feel light headed and sleepy. It had been so warm a minute ago. Everything was perfect. And the best thing was, she felt so……………free. Something she'd never truly felt before. And then suddenly the light had started dimming. And something she'd never felt before came over her: a feeling of heartbreak. She would never want to go through that again. The light was like a dream, dancing just out of her reach. It got darker, and colder. And suddenly, she had felt a sharp pain in her wrist, like it had hit something hard. Her consciousness got lighter and lighter until at last, Adariel felt herself waking up and heard a voice say "She's waking,"  
  
Now, her eyelids fluttered open as she shook the last remnants of deep sleep away from her. And the first thing she saw was a worried face leaning over her. And it belonged to an Elf. A male Elf. She sat up immediately, head almost knocking against the chin of Elf.  
  
"Where am I?" she demanded, looking from right to left, and then realized that it was a stupid question. She knew where she was. And worse still, she also knew who she was WITH. And by the looks on their faces, they knew who she was too. Her wrist throbbed slightly.  
  
"Calm yourself, Lady Adariel. Please." Aragorn said. "You have just come back from the brink of Death."  
  
"I have?" Adariel said, trying hard to remember what she had done before the light had overcome her. It was like there was a cloud over her memories. To distract herself, she looked down at her clothes. There were three dark red bloodstains, one on her shoulder, chest, and stomach. But strangely, they didn't hurt. The only part of her that ached was her wrist.  
  
"You don't remember, Lady Adariel?" said the Elf, whom she had realized was Legolas the same time she realized where she was, asked.  
  
"No," she said slowly, then immediately replaced it by a "Yes," as pictures suddenly filtered through her brain. And then she remembered quite clearly. "How is he?" she asked, feeling sure that they would know who she meant, also wanting to direct the conversation away from herself and what she had done.  
  
"I'm fine," came a voice, getting closer, just out of her view. "And I would like to thank you. I am forever in your debt, Lady Adariel," Adariel turned and looked sharply at Boromir. "Save your breath, I know what you did,"  
  
Boromir paled, but Adariel spoke no more on the subject; she had noticed the bodies of the three birds on the ground.  
  
"No." she gasped, reaching down to cradle the body of one. It was Blueruff, wings outstretched as if in flight, with a wound the size of an arrowhead on his chest, blood drying. Then she looked at Redtail and Yellowfeather. They had a wound each, one on the stomach and the other on their wing joint. "One for each wound," she realized, "They saved my life and brought me out of the Golden Light." Then she felt sad and angry at the same time; sad that her friends had died, and angry that they'd brought her out of that wonderful place. And then she was upset at herself for thinking such things.  
  
She looked up to find everybody looking at her sadly. "They performed the ritual that I used when I healed Boromir," she said accusingly. Nobody said anything. Adariel looked back down at the three sons of Whitewing, her hands closing tightly around the bodies. There was silence, and finally Aragorn spoke.  
  
"We should move on," he said, looking around him. "It is getting dark. The moon will rise soon and we are no longer in the territory of Galadriel and Celeborn." They stirred, all of them, each getting to their feet. Adariel still had the three birds cradled in her hands. She had hardly gotten a step when she swayed and fell backward. Before she hit the ground, strong hands caught her. They all looked at her as if in a silent question.  
  
"If the birds did the same thing to you as you did to Boromir here," Gimli said, "Then why is he up on his feet while you can't take even a step?" The dwarf ignored the look that Legolas shot him from behind Adariel.  
  
"The birds were worn out," Adariel said as it dawned to her, "They were not in the same condition I was in when I undertook the ritual. They had been flying through the forest all day, and that is very unusual to do for such small birds. The ritual was that the healer swapped the well being of their physical self with the one that was dying. Which is why I am so weak now."  
  
"We must hurry," Aragorn pressed, "Someone will have to carry you."  
  
"I'll do it," volunteered Boromir "I am in debt to you, for you sacrificed your life for mine." Nobody but Gimli saw the look that Legolas gave him.  
  
"Excuse me, Sirs," Adariel broke in coldly, "But I don't remember asking for anybody's help."  
  
"But you can't walk!" exclaimed Gimli, "You'll slow us down. Two of our group have been captured, and if we do not start by nightfall, we will loose chance of saving them."  
  
"I know that," snapped Adariel, "I was there! But I have my own ways of getting around. Do not worry, I will not be a burden to you,"  
  
"And I suppose you will want me to call again, and then your horse will come back to you," said Aragorn, amused. But it was Legolas who answered this time, saying, "Do not be fooled, for Elven horses know more than that of the mortals. Surely, Elrond has told you so in your years in Rivendell."  
  
Aragorn shrugged and looked at Adariel, but she only smirked. Suddenly, Legolas picked up the sound of gentle hooves crunching the leaves, galloping their way. He took his bow out and aimed it toward the direction the sound was coming from, but was stopped by a hand on his arm. Adariel spoke. "Calling is not necessary in this case. Put down your bow, Legolas."  
  
He lowered it and they all looked toward the sound of the hoof beats for they could all hear them now. Starliss came out with a spring and a spray of drying leaves flowing about her. She reared when she saw that Adariel was standing, a look of relief on her face. The mare walked over to her mistress, and bent her front knees like she had done back on the path to Lothlorien. Her rider mounted, but swayed slightly again. Aragorn saw this, and said, "Someone should ride behind her.  
  
Before Legolas could open his mouth to volunteer, Boromir appeared at the mare's side. "I'll do it!" he said, looking up at Adariel, "As I would have carried her anyway." Gimli snorted. Legolas said to Boromir, "It might be better if I ride with her. You have not the experience riding bareback."  
  
Boromir was about to protest, but Aragorn said, "Legolas is right. If you do not mind, Lady Adariel, then Legolas will ride with you for now until you recover your strength." Boromir shot Legolas a Look. Legolas ignored it. Gimli snorted again, then softened it to a cough.  
  
"I see that you've made my decision for me anyway," said Adariel, glancing down at the exchanged look between them. Then she turned her eyes to Legolas and felt her heart thump annoyingly, and all her previous thoughts fly into the air. 'I must be wearier than I thought,' she said to herself when she felt the blood rising to her cheeks. Legolas looked up at her, his brows furrowed in concern. "Are you alright, Lady Adariel?"  
  
"I'm fine…thank you." Adariel said, snapping her head back a little, then turning it away to hide her red cheeks.  
  
"You're taking the birds with you?" Gimli asked incredulously, "They are dead!"  
  
"I know that," said Adariel coldly, "But I must give them a decent send off. They did save my life!" She looked up. "They would want their ashes sprinkled across the breeze to float up into the sky with the wind, as they were born to do. So in death they shall do so too."  
  
"By the Halls of Moria," Gimli exclaimed shaking his head, "What has it come down to? Birds saving the lives of Elves?"  
  
"We best be off now," said Aragorn, looking back up toward the canopy where the evening stars were becoming more and more visible. "The Orcs have gotten far already." Boromir and Gimli followed after him as he departed in a light run. Adariel leaned forward, and there was a slight wiggle on Starliss's part when Legolas hopped up behind her, his arms reaching around her for the reins, tugging on them.  
  
Starliss wouldn't budge, tail flickering uncertainly.  
  
She could feel Legolas's gaze behind her. "Reebennne, Niimm assii" she said to her mare, meaning that the Elf behind her was friendly, and that she gave her consent for him to ride. Starliss trotted onward behind Boromir. The road was bumpy along the forest lined with broken twigs and Adariel was careful to lean forward as not to lean on Legolas. Not a word was spoken, and Adariel felt too tired to look for signs of Orcs nearby.  
  
Instead, she was thinking of sleep and why she'd woken up from Death so early. She remembered the pain in her wrist. Now, she held it up to the dimming light and saw that the skin hadn't broken or bruised. How strange it was to experience pain when there was no evident infliction of it, or mark that was left. In front of her, Boromir was hacking at some leaves that overgrew onto the path. It was dark, and Adariel could hear the annoyed and pained cries of her plant friends as they tried to withdraw their limbs from the road.  
  
Boromir was not careful with his sword, and when one plant caught the blade in its vines, he pulled on it vigorously. The plant let go, and caught unawares, the blade nicked the side of his other forearm as it shot back. At the same time, Adariel felt something pierce her own forearm. Taken by surprise, she cried out.  
  
Everybody turned back to look at her. Adariel could see Boromir holding onto his forearm where the blood was seeping out little by little. The cut was in the same place when her own arm hurt. She looked at it, but saw that the skin was unbroken, made pale in the light of the rising moon. Her thoughts were interrupted by Aragorn saying, "What ails you?"  
  
"N-nothing," she stammered, unable to make sense of what was happening. There was a link between Boromir's cut and her own throbbing arm. It didn't take a fool to figure out that something had happened when she had used the Spirit Key. But she'd never remembered hearing about it. "Yes," her mind reasoned, "But nobody's ever survived it to tell of what would happen,"  
  
She would have to wait and see. A suspicion was starting to rise in her mind, and in the meantime, she hoped that Boromir would not hurt himself again……for his sake, and for hers. The thinking now made her sleepy and she felt herself drifting back slightly every so often, and then jerking back forward again when she remembered that someone was behind her.  
  
Still, they ran on in their rush to reach the Orc troop that carried out the two Hobbits. She knew that she couldn't sit like this much longer. Although she could sleep with her eyes open, it wouldn't ensure that she would know where she was going or what she was doing. The night went on, and the shadows moved with a will of their own. They moved faster, with Starliss at a canter. Adariel felt an urge to lean back again, and this time it overcame her embarrassment. So she rested her head against Legolas's shoulder and slept, opting to keep her eyes shut instead of open.  
  
Somewhere close to her ear, she could hear the beating of a heart and the sound lulled her to sleep, with a warmth gathering about her. It was so comfortable here, and all thoughts flew out of her mind. Adariel could feel the fabric digging softly into her cheek as she turned her head slightly. Somewhere overhead, she could feel gentle breaths brush strands of her hair. She was already unconscious before she could feel the tightening of arms around her, gripping the reigns.  
  
  
  
  
  
Legolas could see that the maiden in front of him was starting to waver. Every so often she was going to fall asleep soon, because every so often she would tip back toward him and suddenly jerk forward again. It wasn't the first time that he noticed how beautiful she was. Her hair was shining silver under the dim moonlight, and if it were unbound, it would wind t- "Stop that!" his mind shouted, "You're on a quest to save Middle Earth!"  
  
He sat back a little, watching her sway slightly. Her name was Adariel…that sounded so familiar somehow but he couldn't place it. It was like it came up many times in a conversation he had long ago. Adariel. That name wasn't generally connected with the House of Elrond. But there was a ring to it that was familiar. Adariel so-and-so. It was definitely NOT Adariel, daughter of Elrond.  
  
Last time he'd been to Rivendell, or any other time for that matter, he was sure that he hadn't seen her wandering in the gardens there. And Arwen or any of her brothers had brought up their 'sister' either. If she had been residing in Rivendell, then surely he would have noticed her before? She didn't look like Arwen, or bear any resemblance to Elrond. Instead, she took after her mother, Celebrian. He tried to picture how she looked before she left over the sea. A brief, wavering picture came to his mind then straight away molded itself into the face of the one sitting in front of him.  
  
"At least that proves how much she looked like Celebrian," he thought.  
  
Growing up the Prince of Mirkwood was getting to him. He'd always wanted freedom to do the things that HE wanted to do, and not what everybody ELSE wanted him to do. He couldn't do anything without that title hanging over his shoulder like a big cloud, which was why he was so glad to get away from it all when he was sent as a messenger for his father to the Council of Elrond in Rivendell. And then he had gotten himself tangled in the Quest for the Ring…even better! That would mean that he could finally get away from it all. His friends had always said that he had more of a heart for adventuring than romance.  
  
Which was fine because back in Mirkwood, all the young Elven maidens would smile at him when he walked past, and the occasional one followed him around. They took everything he said to be some invitation to continue on what they were doing. Which he found slightly annoying. Forget slightly…it was more like EXTREMELY.  
  
"Even if I did come to love a maiden," he thought to himself, "How would I tell that she loved me for myself and not just my title?"  
  
He was in the middle of that thought when he felt a soft pressure on his shoulder and he saw that Lady Adariel had finally yielded to sleep. He smiled a little, glad for the darkness for once. She turned her head slightly so that her cheek touched the fabric of his tunic, and he noted that she kept her eyes closed when she slept. His breathing quickened lightly and he hoped she wouldn't notice. It was like looking at a star, with moonlight pouring over her face, and the shadows of leaves dancing across her skin. He tightened his hold on the reins.  
  
This girl fascinated him. He thought again of the importance of her, so much so that the animals of the forest were willing to give their lives to her. And she talked to trees and animals. That was a rare thing to find. All Elves had skill to listen to the whisperings of trees and animals, but few could talk to them, and ask them questions. He searched his mind for the last name that he knew with this skill. None came up.  
  
And it startled him that she rode all the way through Moria after them. No Elf that he knew would willingly go through the tunnels of the Dwarves, especially when they were by themselves. Even Gandalf was reluctant to lead them into Moria. He noticed that she carried a bow, although her quiver was empty. He thought then of the messages that she had sent to them, then an amused thought came to him.  
  
So it was Lady Adariel in the tree outside of Moria. He vaguely remembered that he had heard something up in the high branches of the tree, but passed it off for a bird or a squirrel when the gates of the Dwarf Halls had opened. The one sitting in front of him was indeed, full of surprises.  
  
  
  
  
  
Boromir jogged on, annoyed. His original intent WAS to ride with the Lady Adariel out of gratitude, although he suspected that his inner mind really wanted to ask her what exactly she saw, from wherever she was hiding. There was no doubt in his mind that she was their 'Friend' who had followed them from Moria. He had to admit that he was pretty surprised that 'it' turned out to be a 'she'.  
  
Still, his mind relayed his last conversation with Frodo and his attempt at the Ring. He glanced behind at Adariel again and saw that she was resting against the Elf's shoulder. Boromir gritted his teeth. With that Elf everywhere, he would never get close enough to ask her about what she saw. Angered, he swung his arm out aimlessly in rage. Unfortunately, it hit a tree trunk, and there was a throbbing in his hand. His curse shot out through the night. Aragorn turned and motioned him to be silent. Gimli didn't even bother turning, his ax over his shoulder, stumbling on.  
  
  
  
  
  
Adariel was just settling into Deep Sleep when a pain in her hand startled her out of it. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked down at her hand. It was fine, except for the throbbing. Immediately, she looked toward Boromir. His hand was red, exactly where hers hurt. Her suspicion grew. Looking up at the sky, she feigned sleep again, and the silence left her to her thinking.  
  
So she'd swapped physical spirits with Boromir, and remained alive. That meant that a part of her was in Boromir, and that they were physically connected. If he hurt, she hurt. Luckily for herself, the wound did not appear on her as well. Only the pain. "That's good," her mind whispered sarcastically, "If he gets killed, you'll stay alive to experience the pain."  
  
And that was the trouble. What if he was mortally wounded when she was in the middle of a battle? Wouldn't that be like leaving herself open for a sword or arrow to pierce her? Her brain grumbled. It was too late for this kind of thing, and the night grew darker. The forest's shadows both frightened her and comforted her. Most of the animals were asleep, as were the trees. She noted that there were no owls in this part of the forest.  
  
They were still cantering along the uneven ground, sometimes slowing when they grew tired. The bumpy path lulled her to sleep again, resting back against Legolas's shoulder. Thoughts flew back in her dreams to Lakewood and Rivendell, and divided loyalties made her toss about in her sleep, her breathing coming out rugged.  
  
Her 'father', King of Lakewood, and her real father, Elrond of Rivendell. She had heard a fair many things about Elrond, although none of them came from her adopted father. He was noble amongst both Men and Elves as he was, after all, Elrond Half-Elven. But what about her 'father', King of Lakewood? Hadn't he been the only father she had ever known? Would it be right to abandon him, even though she dreaded all the thing he had done to her like locking her inside for most of her life? And what a long life it was! The thinking was driving her insane, she knew it.  
  
Sometime in the night, she thought she heard a voice whisper in her ear, "Shhh, sleep in peace without troubled dreams." And so she did sleep evenly, untroubled, for the rest of the night until the call of the birds brought her back into the world of Mortals and the Halls of Consciousness. The road went ever on, unwavering.  
  
  
  
  
  
1.1 End of Chapter 10  
  
Reviews please! NO FLAMES but constructive criticism is very welcome! –Spirit Star 


	10. Chapter 10: In which the clouds shroud t...

Disclaimer: I don't own anybody in this story except for Adariel and minor character associated with her, i.e. Maids and other people like that…….. I also made up the King and Lakewood. And I definitely don't own the Lord of the Rings movie plot! Oh, forget it. Let's just say that I don't own any characters mentioned already in the book by JRR Tolkien.  
  
Okay, I've got something to say about the story……and that is I think I might stick a little bit to the movie plot because it is sooooo much shorter. Or else I'll make up my own sequence of events related to it…  
  
  
  
  
  
Echoes of the Narbeleth  
  
Spirit Star  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 10: In which the clouds shroud the night  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The dawn brought the morning frost that lay heavily upon them as they hurried on. They came to the feet of stony hills, and their pace was slower, for the trail was no longer easy to follow. Here the highlands of the Emyn Muil ran from North to South in two tumbled ridges. The western side of each ridge was steep and difficalt, but the eastward slpes were gentler, furrowed with many gullies and narrow ravines. It was nearly impossible to take a horse down it.  
  
Adariel woke just before dawn, no longer feeling weak and unused to movement. They had decided to leave Starliss behind, much to her regret. She looked at the mare. She was the only tie that she had to Lakewood, and now they were parting.  
  
"She's smart," Aragorn had said, "She'll find her way home."  
  
But Aragorn didn't know Starliss like Adariel knew Starliss. And she knew that the snow white mare would absolutely refuse to go home, which immediately made her worry. But Starliss refused to tell her anything when Adariel asked, then half begged for her to make her way to safety. Which, of course, worried her more. But the day way was fast approaching, and she took leave of her friend up on a patch of grass bordering the rocky landscape. Starliss refused to let Adariel take the rein off her, tossing her head from side to side.  
  
So it was with a heavy heart that Adariel set off scrambling in this bony land, climbing to the crest of the first and tallest ridge, and then down again into the darkness of a deep winding valley on the other side. There, in the still cool hour of the early morning they rested for a brief time. For the moment, Aragorn was at a loss: the orc-trail had descended into the valley, but there it had vanished.  
  
"Which way do you think they would turn?" said Legolas. "Northward to take a straighter road to Isengard, or Fangorn, if that is their aim as you guess? Or southward to strike the Entwash?"  
  
"They will not make for the river, whatever they aim to do," said Aragorn. "And unless there is much amiss in Rohan and the power of Saruman is greatly increased, they will take the shortest way that they can find over the fields of Rohirrim. Let us search for them northwards!"  
  
"Why to Isengard?" Adariel asked  
  
"Have you not seen the 'S' sign on their armor? S for Saruman. By some foul craft, he has crossed Orcs with Goblin kind." Boromir replied. Adariel felt it somehow disturbing the way that he was looking at her. Maybe she should not have said that she had seen what he had done to Frodo. She'd also acquired a couple of sore spots since starting down the ridge when Boromir scraped his arms on some sharp stones that jut out from the surface.  
  
"So I have noticed," she replied drily. They moved on.  
  
The dale ran like a stony trough between the ridged hills, and a trickling straem flowed among the boulders at the bottom. A cliff frowned upon their right; to their left rose grey slopes, dim and shadowy in the late night. They went on for a mile or more northwards. Aragorn was searching, bent towards the ground, among the folds and gullies leading up into the western ridge. Legolas was some way ahead, walking alongside Adariel.  
  
Suddenly, she gave a cry and the others came rushing towards her. "We must have already overtaken some of those that we have been hunting for," she said pointing, "Look!" They all looked where she directed and saw that what they had first taken for as bolders were in fact huddled bodies. Five dead Orcs lay there. They had been hewn with many cruel strokes, and two of them had been decapitated. The ground was wet with dark blood.  
  
"We must wait for the light of day to dawn fully," said Gimli, "If we wish to achieve any conclusion from this scene."  
  
"But however you read it, it seems not unhopeful," said Legolas. "Enemies of the Orcs are likely to be our friends. Do you think any people live upon these hills?"  
  
"No," answered Aragorn. "The Rohirrim seldom come here, and it is far from Minas Tirith yet. It might be that a company of Men were hunting around here for reasons that we can only guess at. But I think not."  
  
"Then what do you think?" Adariel cut in, impatient to be off.  
  
"I think," Aragorn answered slowly as if annoying Adariel on purpose, "that the enemy has brought his own enemy with him. These are Northern Orcs from far away. Among the slain were none of the great Orcs with the strange badges on their armor. There was a quarrel, I guess: it is no uncommon thing with these foul creatures of darkness. Maybe there was a disagreement about what to do, in which case, they settled it rather violently."  
  
"More like a disagreement over the captives," said Gimli darkly, "Let us hope that they, too, did not meet their end here, or any place before here."  
  
Aragorn searched the ground in a wide circle; they all did. But no other traces of the fight could be found. They went on. Already the sun had risen and nearing the middle point of the sky. A little further north, they came to a fold in which a tiny stream, falling and winding, had cut a stony path down into the valley itself. In it some bushes grew and there were patches of grass upon its sides.  
  
"At last!" said Aragorn. "Here are the tracks that we seek. Up this water channel. This is the way that the Orcs went after their little 'debate'".  
  
They moved off swiftly, following the new path. At last they reached the crest of the grey hill, and a sudden breeze blew in their hair and rustled their cloaks. Turning back they saw across the River the far hills kndled: It was noon. "How wonderful it would be to have seen these hills at the dawning," thought Adariel as she swept her eyes before them. There, before them in the West, the world lay still, and only occasional breezes stirred it. Green overflowed the wide meads of Rohan; a slight mist from condensed water shimmered in the water-vales; and far off to the left, thirty leagues or more, blue and purple stood the great White Mountains, tipped with glimmering snows that shone bright to their eyes under the noon sun.  
  
"Gondor," breathed Aragorn, but then said, "Now let us go!" He drew his eyes from the South and then looked out west and north to the way that they were to tread. Adariel reluctantly agreed, straying behind a little. They all left after Aragorn one by one until she was alone on the hill. Or at least she thought she was. As she stood broodingly under the warmth of the mid-day sun, a voice startled her.  
  
It belonged to Boromir, saying "Is it not lovely here. I can not wait to go back to my people in Minas Tirith." Adariel stepped back. He stood between her and the path down the hill. He moved closer. "Have you been there, Lady Adariel?"  
  
Adariel forced herself to stop taking steps backward. "No," she said, "I can't say that I have." To which Boromir answered, "I suppose not. You Elves do not like to dwell too close to Men. I see that you are nervous and doubt me,"  
  
Adariel did not like the way the conversation was going, and she looked around Boromir and down the hillside at the retreating backs of her companions, and more closely at Legolas, who was running after Aragorn just in front of Gimli. But she was already out of hearing distance, and their figures became like specks. Why had she not thought of that? There were no trees on the grassy hill, and nobody listened to what grass had to say. There was no way that she could get her message across in time if anything happened.  
  
"We should catch up. I was foolish to tarry for so long," she said harshly, and glanced at Boromir. He was looking at her intently. "They will be out of sight soon."  
  
"But we can catch up."  
  
"Your speed will slow you, for you are Man and I am Elf. You cannot catch up to them if you tarry longer," Adariel could almost see the way down now. She was nervous, and was annoyed at herself that she had not checked for spent arrows before she had left. Her knife was inside her pack where she had left it as not to discomfort her on the way down the ridge. As much as Adariel hated to admit it, she was practically defenseless. All this time, she had been carefully sidestepping past Boromir while looking for signs of wildlife to carry a message for her.  
  
There were none. She could see the Fellowship only as tiny figures in the distance now. How long had she been here? Boromir stepped forward, and Adariel took this opportunity to scatter past him the remaining way and hurridly set off along the path down the hillside, heart beating.  
  
"We'll talk, another time!" Boromir called after her as he came down the path after her. Adariel paid no heed to his comment as she picked up the past. Behind her, Boromir stumbled a little on the slightly larger rocks that littered the way down, hitting his knee occassionally on one or two of them. This only made Adariel's progress slower as she fought the alternating pain in her legs.  
  
She had just went around a bend where the Fellowship had disappeared off around when she found herself suddenly on the ground after she'd hit an impact. She gasped a little for breath after the shock of the collision and, on instinct, lifted her head up to see what it was that she had bumped into. But it wasn't an object, it was a hand extended down to her. Beyond it there was a pair legs. And another. And a third. Her head snapped up and she looked directly into the face of the Prince of Mirkwood.  
  
"Are you alright, Lady Adariel?" he asked, hand still held out. Hesitantly she took it and allowed herself to be pulled up, snatching her hand away immediately afterward. "I could have helped myself up, but thank you anyway," she announced. They took the hint that she was fine. Beyond Legolas, she could see Gimli the Dwarf and Aragorn Arathorn's son looking at her with a question in their faces. Boromir hurried up the path behind her moments later. They all looked at him, and he held up his hands.  
  
"Where were you?" asked Aragorn, said to them both, "Have you found anything? We had noticed you were gone and had started back up this path to look for you when Lady Adariel here," he indicated to Adariel, "rounded this corner and ran herself into Legolas."  
  
"I was-" Adariel started to say  
  
"Taking a detour with me to look for more signs," Boromir finished for her, quickly cutting in. Before Adariel could say anything, Aragorn said, "Did you find anything?"  
  
"Nothing," said Boromir, shaking his head solemnly. "Nothing at all."  
  
Adariel opened her mouth, then closed it. Then she opened it again. And then closed it once more. There was no need to alarm the rest of them and besides, she assured herself, it won't happen again. She'd be more careful. Gimli saw her hesitation, and said, "Is that what happened?"  
  
Adariel thought for a minute, and said "Yes. Yes that is what happened." Legolas gave her a calculating look that she didn't like. It was one of those looks people would give her back in Lakewood, right before they said, "You are beautiful," and thought that they knew all there was to know about her. She held her head high and shot a glare his way. To her surprise, he turned away and walked on briskly. She now walked next to Giml as avoid as much conversation as possible with Boromir, who brought up the rear behind them.  
  
The ridge upon which the companions stood went down steeply before their feet. Below it twenty fathoms or more, there was a wide and rugged shelf which ended suddenly in the brink of a sheer cliff: The East Wall of Rohan. So ended the Emyn Muil, and the green plains of the Rohirrim stretched away before them to the horizon.  
  
"Look!" said Legolas suddenly, pointing up at the sky above them, I see an eagle! He is very high. He seems to be flying away from this land back to the North! He is going with great speed. Look!"  
  
And they all looked. Adariel saw the eagle flap its wings in its effort to go North and felt a wonder at it. Here was a creature of such grace and freedom flying with such majestic beauty. She was just about to say so when Aragorn said, "No, not even my eyes can see him. He must be far aloft indeed. I wonder what his errand is, and if he is the same bird I have seen before."  
  
"You have seen him before?" Adariel asked. She had looked at Boromir and Gimli and saw that they were striving and straining their eyes as if they could not see the eagle, clear in the sky. Aragorn said nothing in answer to her question, and nor did any of the others because Aragorn said, "I can see something nearer at hand and more urgent. There is something moving over the plain!"  
  
They all looked again at where he pointed them. "Many things," Adariel said slowly. "It is a great company and they are on foot, yet I cannot say any more about them. They are many miles away and the flatness of the land is hard to measure by."  
  
"At least we know that we are on the right path, and need no trail to guess by" said Gimli. "And I do not doubt that the path of the Orcs is the quickest one through these flatlands. Let us go on."  
  
They followed the Orcs by the clear light of day. It seemed that the Orcs had pressed on with all the speed that they could muster. Every now and then they would find things that had either been dropped or thrown away. Things like food bags, torn cloaks and shoes that were broken on stones. The trail led them north along the top of the escarpment and at length they came to a deep cleft carved in the rock by a stream that splashed noisily down. In the narrow ravine a rough path descended like a steep stair into the plain.  
  
They had reached the plain at last, and felt the sudden strangeness on the grass of Rohan. It swelled like a green sea up to the very foot of the Emyn Muil. To Adariel, who had never seen the sea, it was like a great green mist that had spread itself all over and lain to sleep upon the ground. The falling stream had vanished into a deep growth of cresses and water plants and they could hear the slight tinkling of it away under the floating greeness. They seemed to have left winter behind in the hills. Here, the air was softer and warmer and faintly scented, as if spring was already stirring from its parched sleep.  
  
Adariel took a deep breath and closed her eyes. It made her feel light- headed, as well as light-hearted. She exhaled and took another breath and felt the warm breeze flow through her bound hair, cool on her neck. Suddenly, she felt the urge to jump, to dance, to run through these places so green. And she felt less lonely as all confusion flew from her mind and images of home temporarily danced out of her head. Her eyes flew upward, and to anyone watching her, the clouds reflected there seemed to mist her eyes a little until the sunlight shone and they glistened again.  
  
And there were indeed eyes that followed her. More than one pair, but before Adariel could notice, they had set off again in single file, first Aragorn, then Adariel followed by Gimli, Legolas and Boromir. An eager light shone in their eyes, although it shone dully in Boromir's; his was clouded by something else. The path that the Orcs chose was easy to follow. The fair grass of Rohan had been bruised and blackened as they passed. Suddenly, Aragorn gave a cry and turned aside swiftly. They paused and made to follow him.  
  
"Stay!" he shouted from where he was, "Do not follow me yet!" They stayed silently and waited. They watched him run through the grass, and at the furtherest point he stooped and picked something up from the ground and then ran back. "Yes," he said, "they are quite plain: a hobbit's footprints. Pippin's, I think. He is smaller than Merry. And look at this!" He held up a thing that glittered in the sunlight. It looked like a newyly opened leaf of a birch tree, fair and strange in that treeless plain.  
  
"The brooch of an Elven cloak!" cried Legolas and Gimli together. Boromir looked surprised, and Adariel said nothing. They had all recognized the leaf of Lorien. "It has not been dropped by chance," Aragorn said. I think Pippin ran away from the trail for that purpose."  
  
"Then he at least was alive," said Boromir harshly. "We do not pursue in vain."  
  
"Let us hope that he did not pay too dearly for his boldness," murmured Adariel as she glanced again at the brooch, her mind flickering in its calmness back to the mirror of Galadriel, and of the things she had learnt there in the Golden Woods. "Come, let us go on!" said Legolas, catching her mood when he glanced at her, "The thought of those merry young folk driven like cattle burns my heart."  
  
The sun sank from its proud position in the sky, and shadows rose behind and reached out long arms from the East. Still, they went on. One day now had passed since Merry and Pippin had been captured, and the Orcs were still far ahead. No sight of them could be beheld any longer. As the night's darkness was closing about them, Aragorn halted. Only twice had they rested that day, and only for a brief while at that. Now Aragorn spoke.  
  
"We have two choices," he said to them, "Shall we rest now by the fall of the night, or shall we go on until our will and our strength leaves us? Unless our enemies rest, they will leave us far behind if we sleep."  
  
"Surely, even Orcs must pause for a spell on their march?" said Gimli. They were silent, each pondering that very question until Legolas said "Seldom do Orcs march under the watchful eyes of the sun, yet those that we are hunting have done so. Certainly, they will not rest by night."  
  
"But if we walk by this darkness, we cannot follow their trail," said Gimli  
  
"Their trail is straight and turns neither right nor left, as far as my eyes can see," Adariel cut in. She was tired of this debate. "Although that matters not. What matters is that the one who leads us can see it also." They fell silent and looked at Aragorn. He turned, gazing north and west for a long while. The wind picked up slightly, rustling the grass at their feet. With it came the sound of their tinkling voices, arguing over grassy things. Mostly complaining about being trampled by the Orcs.  
  
Absently, Adariel snapped at them. "Taaaaallo," in the language of the green ones. The grass paid no heed. They were all looking at her now. Her voice had cut through the silence. She cocked her head and ignored their gazes, instead directing her attention to Aragorn. "Well? What path do you choose to lead us on?"  
  
"We will not walk in the dark," he said at length. "There is much danger of loosing the trail and the signs of other comings and goings. If the Moon gave much light, then we could use it. But tonight the sky is covered with cloud so that none of the stars might shine through."  
  
"If only the Lady had given us light, such as the gift she bestowed on Frodo!" Gimli exclaimed, although he did not mind the darkness as much. Adariel shivered, but was glad. She did not fancy tramping through darkened grasses that rustled with the withering wind to sound like movement from the deepest darkness. Her eyes drifted on their own accord up to the pale moonlight that gave through the mist of grey, which cast a blurry halo around the moon itself.  
  
Aragorn had already cast himself onto the ground, and from what Adariel could tell, he had fallen asleep at once. Good. She really felt the need to spend some time by herself to think. There were a lot of things that needed thinking about before they became tangled together. Gimli had cast himself on the ground as well. In a minute or two, he too would be asleep. Legolas had walked to a patch of grass that was still undisturbed and cast himself down, making a small nestle which he now lay in.  
  
She laid herself down and pretended to be asleep also, eyes closed. She felt footsteps close to her head, and tensed. They were heavy footsteps, that of a Man. She had no doubt as to who they belonged to. "Pass me by, pass me by!" she thought, and luckily they did. She exhaled gently when she felt the heavy body drop some distance beyond her in the grass, stirring up small complaints amongst the green blades that shot from the ground.  
  
Another minute later, all was still. Her eyes opened cautiously. They were all asleep, she knew. Standing up without disturbing the grass around her, she silently reached into her pack and withdrew the knife, attaching it to her waist again. She couldn't be too careful, and she cast a dark look at Boromir's still form. Leaving the rest of the things in there, she tread over the grass on light feet until she was some way away from the others, although not out of helping distance. There was a small swell in the plain, barely noticable.  
  
With a sigh, she plopped herself onto the unbroken grass and stared up at the sky. The night was still, and only the clouds glided to and fro in front of the misty moon. "What a pity that the stars aren't out" she said to herself. Stars and the Moon and the Night. Things she had come to know and love, as well as her friends, the trees and also the creatures that resided amongst them. How many times had she flung open her window back in Lakewood at night to breathe the crisp air that flowed amongst the trees?  
  
Lakewood. Home. How foreign those words were to her. Instead, Lakewood was immediately connected to Rivendell, and Rivendell to Elrond. Lakewood seemed a distant memory, although she felt she could still picture the lake that lay there amongst the trees, and the streams that glowed around it. And what about her father? Would she be forever divided between Elrond and Eltheran?  
  
"How did I get myself in such a state," Adariel thought "That I have difficulty defining the words 'Home' and 'Father'?"  
  
The clouds seemed to have cleared up now, slightly. Some stars had twinkled through here and there. With the parting of the clouds came the breeze that stirred the grass around her. It came like a tide that swept across the plain and was suddenly gone. She sighed a little. There was a more prominent issue to be addressed.  
  
Boromir was frightening her. Although the madness that she had initially saw when he had last talked to Frodo was gone, it was replaced by desparate urgency. Urgency to talk to her and find out what exactly she knew about his attempt to gain the ring for himself. This, she knew and regretted that she had said that she knew what he had done for the second time. Now that she thought about it, it was strange that none of the others had asked her what she had seen or done whilst she was trailing them. Strangely, she felt that they were giving her time and letting her open up on her own grounds. "They're luckier trying to get me to kiss an Orc," she scorned.  
  
She stretched her arms in front of her, looking for signs of bruising from the bumps that Boromir had taken on their journey. There were none. A sudden thought occurred to her as she lay there in the sweet grass. If she could feel his pain, then maybe he could also feel hers. That way, if he tried to do anything to her if she was ever caught unawares, the damage would be minimal. She didn't really want to try it, but she knew she had to test her theory before it came under the knife in battle. "Which reminds me," she suddenly thought, "I need new arrows. In the meantime, my knife will have to do."  
  
The wind blew over her again, and she moaned slightly at the cool breeze. She loved it. Adariel suddenly had an urge to let her hair down, which she did, thinking that she would bind it again in the morning. Her eyes closed for a moment as her hair rustled in the gentle hands of the wind that flowed past her neck. The smell of grass was back with her again, making her feel giddy. "It was wrong of people to think that Elves were light hearted and happy all the time," she thought to herself. "We're not, although it is in our nature to feel grateful to nature."  
  
The night was getting darker as the midnight hour grew closer. Adariel shivered now. The clouds had covered the stars, and now the moon's light had started fading in with the thickening mists. It was getting darker. What was that? Adariel's eyes widened as she picked up the slight crunch of grass. The footsteps were light, and she relaxed a little. They definitely didn't belong to Orcs. She was aware that she was in a vulnerable positing, lying on the grass with her hair spread around her like a halo.  
  
And then a soft whoosh of air, and she found that Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood, was sitting up beside her. She was surprised. "You should be asleep, Sir." She said softly.  
  
"And so should you, Lady Adariel." He answered, turning his head slightly to look at her. She could find no answer to that, but said "I needed to clear my head."  
  
He was still gazing down at her when he said, "Do you always do this Lady Adariel?"  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"When something troubles you, do you always strive to be alone?"  
  
"What makes you say that?" Adariel sat up and turned, her eyes glaring into his face. "You know me not and yet you claim that you do!"  
  
Legolas held up his hand in protest. "Nay, I have said not so! I was merely making an observation." It was a statement. Adariel said nothing, merely leaned back on her arms, eyes turned toward the sky. They were silent for a while, and Adariel toyed with the idea of protesting. But it was Legolas who changed the subject.  
  
"Do you ever miss home?" he asked her, his eyes following hers to the clouded sky. Her temper flared up with her confusion. "Home?" she repeated stupidly. "Yes. And no."  
  
"Yes and no? How so?" he asked head turned toward her again. She sat up fully. The wind caught her once more, but this time she felt no pleasure in the freedom it brought. Only the cold, and she shivered. "You wouldn't understand. You're a Prince." Adariel said after a moment's pause, thinking about all those days she had spent locked in her room, gazing longingly outside through her window.  
  
"It matters not. You are a Princess."  
  
"It matters." Adariel answered. She turned to him to find his eyes following her. The pale moonlight cast onto him, and for a minute Adariel saw him as he would be, free in the woods of his home in Mirkwood. It drew her breath from her lips. She suddenly felt light headed again, and confused. She was suddenly struck by her last vivid memory of Lothlorien, when she had cried sitting on the bank near the stream with Legolas beside her.  
  
A flush entered her cheeks. How could she have done that? Crying was a sign of weakness, and she'd spent her whole life trying to be the opposite. Wasn't that the first time somebody had seen her cry? Her brain was a muddle of thoughts as she tried to clear them. There was an awkward pause on both sides, and then she said "Tell me about Mirkwood."  
  
Legolas looked surprised. "Mirkwood?" Adariel nodded and looked back up at the sky. It was cold, near midnight. "Mirkwood…was green. And it was full of light before the darkness came. It still is, but sometimes it seems that you have to look harder to find it. I remember the leaves turning red with the passing of the seasons when they floated to the ground, with the treetops bare. The woods were our friends. In the spring, the leaves grew green and cast shadows on the ground. The birds danced through the trees and ducked under the sunbeams and over the shallow streams that ran from the mountains." He paused, as if remembering it all for himself.  
  
"Did you like it there?" Adariel said, before she could stop her tongue. Then she chided herself, saying. "Of course! He's the Prince of Mirkwood! How can he not like it there?"  
  
But he surprised her by saying, "Like you had said, Yes and no. I am beginning to understand what you meant by those words, although I cannot guess if you meant them the same way as me. I loved Mirkwood with all my heart, for it was there that I resided for most of my life. But sometimes, I would wish to be anywhere BUT Mirkwood. I loved the thrill of the ride, and to see places that I had not seen with my own eyes before."  
  
"I know how you felt. In my heart, I felt it too. The calling of the wind, and the yearning to ride." Adariel whispered. Legolas said, "You know that I am the Prince of Mirkwood, but I have not heard you say where you have come from, Adariel Elrond's daughter. I do not remember you at Imladris (Rivendell)"  
  
Adariel felt the odd stirring of apprehension, but pushed it down. That was the past. "I am Adariel Elrond's daughter, but was brought up by Elth…Elthloir. So I am known as many things, but you may have heard of me as Adariel, Maiden of Lakewood, renamed Adariel Brightstar (Galadel) by the Lady of the Woods."  
  
Adariel stumbled on saying Eltheran, and instead, said Elthloir who was an old advisor to Eltheran. Perhaps Legolas did not know she was Princess yet, in which case, she did not want to be known as one. For some reason, he didn't seem to make the link between the Princess of Lakewood and the Maiden of Lakewood, whom she had just told him she was. 'Maybe it's to my good fortune…' Adariel thought to herself.  
  
Recognition flickered in Legolas's head. Of course. So that was where he had heard 'Adariel' from. He glanced at her and saw her face flicker for a second with a look of pain from her memories, and wondered how she had become feared so much throughout the Elven world. She looked and acted harmlessly enough. An urge welled up inside of him to comfort her. Bearing that title must not have been easy. No wonder she had been so secretive. He thought of something to say to assure her he did not believe a word of the rumors. But the first thing he said happened to be the wrong words.  
  
"That makes you the most beautiful of the Elves,"  
  
Adariel flickered around suddenly, her mood vanishing as suddenly as it came. "Please, Sir. Do not only look upon me with that thought only. In truth, I had surpased my sister, Arwen, there only because of my fabled cruelty and the mystery surrounding me, for they heighten the effect of looks themselves. But they are gone, and I wish not to be called that any longer."  
  
"I am sorry, I had not known." Was all Legolas could think of to say. This girl had hidden depths to her that he had not seen at first. Adariel's initial anger cooled to a feeling of unhappiness. She was tired, she could not deny it. And she still had the issue of Boromir to deal with when the dawning came. The darkness had stopped inching forward now, and she knew it was the calm of midnight that surrounded her.  
  
She surprised herself by saying, "Sometimes, I feel confused. Is my home in Lakewood, or in Rivendell. Is my father Elrond, or Elth…Elthloir? These questions I have not yet answered, and one day, when I go home, wherever that is, I will have them to deal with."  
  
Legolas thought carefully before answering, "Home is where you feel your heart lies, and your father is the one of your choosing. Although Master Elrond may be of your blood, did Elthloir not bring you up by his own hand, and raise you in the shadowy trees of Lakewood? I have heard of Elthloir, yet did not know he had a daughter."  
  
Adariel shook her head and ignored the last sentence. "I have never met Elrond in my memory, and Elther…er, Elthloir……" she shook her head, wanting to keep her thoughts to herself.  
  
He'd locked her up to keep her there although his intentions had originally been good. And he had also started those rumors about her to keep her at his side. She inhaled again the sweet scent of the green grass. It was not the place for her worries now, nor with the company she now kept. She lay her head back down on the grass, and Legolas followed suit nearby. Somehow, she felt comforted knowing that another Elf was nearby. Starliss had been company on her journey, but she hadn't really realized how much she missed talking to another of her own kind.  
  
"We should rest," Legolas said, gazing up at the near-visible stars. "I fear we have a hard march ahead of us still, and I should like to savor these fields before darker times befall us."  
  
Adariel followed his gaze to the shining stars. He was a Silvan Elf. He loved the stars like she did, for she too came from the woodlands. "It's beautiful." She said. "I hate it, but I love it; The night and the stars and the moon. But I will never enjoy it like I have before, not since my journey in the darkest depths of Moria. How I loath the darkness that lay there."  
  
"It *is* beautiful." Legolas said, although he could not say in truth that he was talking about the stars. "And the darkness must come when the light is out. With light, there will always be shadow. Will you hide from the light even as you hide from the shadow?"  
  
Adariel thought about it. It made sense. Still, it was hard to shake off the feeling at night that she was still locked in the tunnels of the Dwarf mines. But then she looked at the stars again, and saw their twinkling light. She'd been renamed Brightstar by Lady Galadriel; Brightstar to shine in the darkness to guide in the hour of dispair. She hoped she was worthy of the name bestowed on her.  
  
She was tired now, her mind starting to wander aimlessly on the paths of Elven Dream. Her eyes were drooping closed. "Strange," she thought, "sleeping with my eyes closed seems to have become a habit, one from living near Man too long." Adariel didn't care though. She was stubborn, and it was her way of doing things that counted.  
  
Beside her, she heard the melodic voice of Legolas singing softly. She didn't remember her voice joining in but somehow, when he had finished, she found her mouth closing gently and her eyes closing. The breeze picked up and swirled around her. It didn't feel so cold anymore, and woven in her dreams were images of stars that shone brightly, trees that stood tall, birds that echoed, and a voice that sang softly in the night.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
1.1 End of Chapter 10  
  
Reviews please! NO FLAMES but constructive criticism is very welcome! –Spirit Star  
  
  
  
Hahahahaha!!!! I've cut out the song that Legolas is supposed to sing. If you had read this fic earlier then you would have been able to view it…sorry. Email me if you want it. 


	11. Chapter 11: In which dawns the Night of ...

Disclaimer: Gee, I'm sick of disclaimers. Let's just say that anybody who didn't appear in any of the works by Tolkien belongs to me. The End.  
  
  
  
  
  
Echoes of the Narbeleth Spirit Star  
  
  
  
Chapter 11: In which dawns the Night for Revelations  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It was dark. Very, very dark and Adariel didn't like it. It sort of reminded her of the stuffy kind of darkness that she had found in Moria. She felt that she couldn't breath, and started taking big deep breaths in. There was no end to the darkness, and Adariel felt like she could reach her hand out and touch it.  
  
"Is anybody out there?" she called desperately, but her voice sounded thin and it was an effort for her to open her mouth and let breath out. There wasn't enough air.  
  
Nobody answered, and still, the darkness closed in. Adariel felt danger prickle at the edge of her senses, but when she looked around about her, there was nothing but unending night. Suddenly, she felt something change. It was still dark, and no light showed through, but Adariel felt change in the air. It was like the swirls upon the water when the winds of change skimmed across its surface.  
  
A wind blew, but it was not comforting. It both chilled Adariel and scorched her. It pounded against her skin and she grit her teeth, eyes narrowing. "Who are you?" she called out, expecting no answer. And then from her left a voice sounded.  
  
"Dartha Galadel. Patience, Brightstar."  
  
The voice echoed. It was neither male nor female and it sounded both warm and cold. The echoing continued, making the darkness swell a little. "Patience, patience, patience, patience, patience." the echo sang out.  
  
"Where are you?" Adariel called, tears blinding her eyes. A different voice was directly in front of her. It was deeper than the first, but it had no boundaries between male and female.  
  
"Annon le tolo al-si. Your time will come."  
  
There were now two echoes. "Patience, patience, patience." to Adariel's left, and "Come, come, come, come ." from in front of her.  
  
They wove around each other, tangling and untangling in the gloom. The air grew a little thinner and breathing became easier. Still, danger prickled at the edge of her mind. Adariel couldn't shake it off, with the echoes still flowing around her like a mixture of air and water, alike but different. And then a third voice joined in with the din creating a triad, almost like a chord of sound.  
  
"Siila galad. Shine brightly."  
  
"Brightly, brightly, brightly, brightly." the third echo cried, reaching out to join its sisters. It was like a melody of echoes that surrounded Adariel, and still she felt uneasy. Then the echoes fell silent as if obeying an order from their masters. The harsh wind stopped blowing. All was still in the smothering darkness. And then one by one, the voices repeated themselves, first from the left and lastly from the right.  
  
"Dartha Galadel. (Patience, Brightstar)."  
  
"Annon le tolo al-si. (Your time will come)."  
  
"Siila galad. (Shine brightly)."  
  
And then they repeated themselves again, and Adariel looked about the triad of voices in front of her.  
  
"Dartha Galadel."  
  
"Annon le tolo al-si."  
  
"Siila galad."  
  
As the last voice contributed to the chord, the outline of a circle formed at Adariel's feet and light emitted from it. It was Living Light, and it wrapped its rays like a spiral about Adariel. It rose up for a little while, circling about her and some reached out and formed a soft layer that laid itself upon the surface of her skin and hair so it seemed that she herself was glowing. And then the spiraling light curved outwards, no longer about her and rays of it pierced the darkness. She still glowed.  
  
The stronger the light, the shriller the three mysterious voices until it was impossible to tell where they came from. They filled up the whole space and the echoes had come back to join the chorus. The sound rose higher to a pitch near screaming, but still melodic. The light continue to puncture the darkness. The voices rose higher still and Adariel's head pounded. It seemed now that they were inside of her as well as outside.  
  
"Patience, Brightstar, your time will come. Shine brightly" One voice came silkily in common tongue, then once again in Elven tongue. "Dartha Galadel, annon le tolo al-si. Siila galad."  
  
The voice repeated again, smoothly, soothingly over the others. One voice that was woven of all the voices that Adariel knew. There was Eltheran, Elbesth, Elderen, Arwen, Galadriel, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Boromir, the voices of all the maids she'd ever had and still there were many more.  
  
And then Adariel woke up.  
  
It was very early, and a long time before the gray of dawn was to emerge. The others were not up yet, and even Legolas was still in the last stages of deep sleep as he lay a little way off where she was. She sat up, staring a little into the distance, trying to clear her head. The echo of the last voice was still with her in her mind and she kept hearing it over and over again.  
  
What did it mean?  
  
Pushing the thought to the back of her mind along with the other jumbled dreams of darker nights, she bound her hair tightly with the twine she had discarded the night before when she had been talking to Legolas. Sighing as she finished braiding the last strands, she stood up in one swift movement and stretched. By the look of the lightening clouds, it was going to be a fine day. Her head turned toward the direction of the trail and she frowned a little. There seemed no end to this plain.  
  
There was a slight frost on the blades of grass around her that had not yet melted to become dew droplets. She hardly felt the cold, as there was no wind that blew. All was calm in the hours before the day came. She noticed that the clouds no longer covered the sky. It was dark blue, fading into the soft colors of the light, making it look purple. The stars were still visible, and so was the soft outline of the moon that faded with the coming light.  
  
"O Elbereth. Erin le hin, dad siila. Tog ammen tri i fuin." She murmured to the sky absently. (O Elbereth. Shine down on your children. Lead us through the darkness)  
  
Adariel sighed and looked back down around her. That dream was still a shadow upon her mind, weighing it down. It was the only dark dream that night; one that came just before she awoke and it lingered still. What she really needed was a distraction, or at least something to occupy her with for a while.  
  
The men beyond her lay sprawled on the ground in cautious sleep, weapons at hand. The slightest obtrusive movement and they would spring up. For men of hardened ways, they seemed almost peaceful lying there on the grass. Perhaps nature's beauty had that effect on everybody.  
  
The hours before the dawn were coming soon. There was a change in the air as the far away, birds woke and beat the still of night with their wings to welcome the new day. Adariel looked out toward the distance, and frowned. Something wasn't right. She gazed northwards into the darkness.  
  
Something was different from yesterday. She tried to picture everything in her mind. The wind still blew, the air still calm. All was peaceful in the early hour of day, a time of change between darkness and light. Too peaceful. Adariel frowned. Where was the presence that weighed down on her heart the day before? The shadow that drew caution in her mind? Adariel searched for it both with her eyes and her mind, and she found it finally teetering on the edge of both her senses.  
  
The Orcs had not rested in the night and were now far ahead of them.  
  
Her eyes opened with realization. At the rate that they were going, it would be nearly impossible to catch up. She ran over to the nearest body that lay in the grass, which happened to be that of Legolas'. Already, he was stirring with the sound of her purposefully heavy footsteps on the ground. She shook him by the shoulders gently, then roughly.  
  
"Wake up!"  
  
His eyes (he slept with them open) cleared and he bolted straight up, startled. The movement flung Adariel backwards. Adariel, whose hands were still upon his shoulders, tugged back with the momentum and he fell forward. Adariel felt a little dazed as she fell back onto the grass, her neck snapping back and her head hitting the ground. Something heavy landed on top of her.  
  
There was a brief stillness, and then Adariel glared up at the form on top of her who wasn't moving.  
  
"Get off me!" she shot at him, then pushed up roughly.  
  
"My apologies, Lady Adariel." Legolas said, a faint blush tinting his cheeks. He stood up quickly and offered her his hand. She ignored it and got up herself.  
  
"Oh," said a voice behind her, "am I interrupting something?"  
  
"No!" They both said. Adariel turned to see who it was. It was Aragorn, who stood behind them with a bemused smile upon his lips. Then Adariel remembered what she was originally going to say, and her eyes turned serious. Aragorn and Legolas noted the change in her expression and looked at her expectantly.  
  
"They (meaning the ones they were chasing) are far, far away." She said. "I do not feel their presence anymore."  
  
A troubled look came over all their faces. Legolas gazed to the North and fell thoughtful and silent. "She is right," he said at length, "I know in my heart that they have not rested this night. Only an eagle could overtake them now."  
  
"But still, onwards we must go," Aragorn concluded. "Let us wake the others from their peaceful rest. I fear the dawn will catch up with us if we tarry longer."  
  
They walked to where the other two lay, and Aragorn stooped over Gimli to shake him awake. The Dwarf sprang up with his ax in hand. Seeing that it was Aragorn who stood over him, he relaxed his grip on the weapon.  
  
"Easy, Friend Dwarf," Aragorn said grimly. "Though danger does not pass our sights yet."  
  
Next he came to Boromir. He shook Boromir awake, but Boromir did not stir. Aragorn shook him again, harder, but still Boromir slept. Aragorn raised his eyebrows. "I wonder if there is anything under the stars that could wake him," he wondered aloud.  
  
Suddenly, Boromir stirred on his own account, and his face became troubled. "No! Frodo! What have I done? Come back Frodo!"  
  
Aragorn drew back and stared, as did Legolas and Gimli. Adariel raised her eyebrows. 'Well,' she thought to herself, 'it looks as if he gives himself away on his own accord, although I'm sure it is his consciousness speaking through his dreams.'  
  
Boromir continued to speak in his dream-like state. "I did not mean to take the Ring! Truly, something had come over me! I was not myself!"  
  
They all started when he said that. Aragorn leaned forward once more with a grim look upon his face and shook Boromir once more. Hard. Boromir jerked awake, groaning. He rubbed his temple with his hand and looked around to see all the grim faces that looked down at him. He sat up immediately and said, "What is it?"  
  
"Perhaps," Aragorn said, "You can tell us."  
  
Boromir looked surprised. "Tell me, what is it that you speak of. If I know it, I will tell it."  
  
"A strange tale we heard," Gimli spoke up, "while you were asleep. It came from the mouth of a man not yet conscious. And we heard him say: 'No! Frodo! What have I done? Come back Frodo!' and just as we were about to wake him with a question, he added, 'I did not mean to take the Ring! Truly, something had come over me! I was not myself!' What can you make of this situation?"  
  
Boromir paled visibly and turned his eyes on Adariel. A look of anger flamed in his eyes and for a moment or two it was laced with hatred that made her flinch. He leapt at her, growling. Adariel calmly dodged to the side, narrowly being pounce on. Boromir struck once more. She tried to leap away again but failed and found herself pinned down with a face twisted with anger on front of her. Boromir's hands dug into her arm and it she felt it twist and the bone complain angrily.  
  
Boromir showed no signs of having felt her pain, and Adariel noted somehow that the link between them worked only one way. So it looked like she'd have to do this the hard way. Her face was calm although the pain from the twist was sinking in. Aragorn and Legolas were trying to pull Boromir off her.  
  
"You!" roared Boromir, "You told them! Once I'm through with you, you scoundrel of an Elf.!"  
  
Adariel said nothing. Her arm hurt too much, but her hand strained down to her side where she could feel the hilt of her knife rubbing against her hip bones. A little bit further.a little more.and she had it. In one swift movement, she put all the strength she had on call into a sudden jerk of her arm and drew the knife out. It cut shallowly into Boromir's leg, and he loosened his arm at the sudden pain.  
  
Aragorn and Legolas jerked him off. Adariel winced at the sudden bolt of pain in her leg. The knife cut wasn't deep, she knew, but it had probably drawn blood. Aragorn's hand was on the hilt of his knife and he was talking seriously to Boromir in quiet, hushed tones. Boromir appeared to be weeping, his head in his hands, whist being held down by Gimli. But it seemed that Gimli didn't really need to hold him down at all. Boromir seemed to have given up and the fire had gone out of his eyes.  
  
Adariel shuddered inwardly. She had never really trusted Men anyway with maybe the exception of Aragorn. But then again, he had be Elf raised. He was the only human that she actually respected. Her leg had stopped hurting so badly now and there was only a dull ache left.  
  
A hand was thrust in front of her, disturbing the melancholy of her thoughts. "May I help you up?"  
  
"Normally, I wouldn't let you," Adariel said, her head raised up with narrowed eyes that peered at Legolas. "But thank you for the offer. I suppose I'd have to take it."  
  
Legolas pulled her up and Adariel couldn't help but wince at the shift in muscle and the weight put on her leg. But it was gone in an instant, and her face cleared.  
  
"Are you hurt? Did he harm you?" Legolas asked anxiously, gazing down where her hand was clasped against her thigh. Adariel shook her head.  
  
"It's probably just a scrape from the ridge."  
  
Legolas didn't look convinced, but said, "You knew about what Boromir had done? And you didn't tell us?"  
  
Aragorn had joined him with Boromir in tow and Gimli trailing behind. "Yes," Aragorn said, peering at Adariel, "I should well like to know that too."  
  
'What can I say?' Adariel thought frantically to herself, 'What is there TO say?'  
  
Out loud, she spoke, "It was not my place to tell, as it was not my place to have seen it in the first place."  
  
"I'm beginning to wonder," Legolas said, "Just what else that you saw. I had thought that rustle of leaves back outside the Moria to be you and I am sure that I am right. Tell us of your journey, as it may well be information that may help us on our way."  
  
"Tell us as we make our way down the trail once more," Aragorn cut in, "It may be true that the enemy has fled far, it is not our place to decide whether to stay or whether to go. That decision is up to Frodo and Sam wherever they may be. The sooner the Ring is destroyed the better. Let us be off once more!"  
  
They followed him single file, and Aragorn was at he front. They placed Boromir after him followed by Gimli, Adariel and Legolas. Aragorn stopped to press is ear to the earth. The others waited in anxious silence for his judgment. It was still dark so they were forced to trust his lead. Aragorn lay motionless for quite some time and Adariel had begun to wonder if he was still awake when at last he rose straight again with the dawn that came glimmering over them.  
  
His look did not comfort or assure them. His eyes were troubled.  
  
"The rumor of the earth is dim and confused," he said. "Nothing walks upon it for many miles about us. Faint and far are the feet of our enemies. But loud are the hoofs of the horses. It comes to my mind that I heard them, even as I lay on the ground in sleep, and they troubled my dreams: horses galloping, passing in the West. But now they are drawing ever further from us, riding northward. I wonder what is happening in this land!"  
  
"Let us go on!" said Boromir, anxious to be away from the plain.  
  
The third day of the pursuit began, and in the early morning, Adariel was forced to give up her own account her adventures, leaving out the part that of her heritage apart from the fact that she came from Lakewood. The Company listened with as much attention as they could spare, often asking her to repeat scenes. When her story had faded with the rising of the sun near the mark of late morning, Aragorn spoke.  
  
"Lakewood? You came from Lakewood? Were you not haunted by the shadow of the Maiden of Lakewood that Elves seldom speak about?" he asked. He had only heard the title, and not the name that went with it.  
  
Adariel blushed. "She has change much. She was not the like the one you have come to know."  
  
Aragorn looked slightly surprised. "Lakewood was a dark place. I speak no ill of the people, but of the one who rules it. There are whispers that ride the breeze that he had been acting not like one of his own. His mind seeks the darkness, and all will be lost, soon."  
  
"Eltheran?" Adariel asked, her tongue betraying her for a while.  
  
"You call him by name!" Aragorn exclaimed. "You know him well?"  
  
This confused Adariel. What did he mean? Did he not know that she was Princess of Lakewood? Surely Arwen must have told him! Then she remembered that not many even knew of her title as Princess. Even Legolas couldn't seem to make the link. Most knew her name in link to the Maiden of Lakewood. The Princess was a rare sight, and although most knew she existed, the association between the Maiden of Lakewood and the Princess of Lakewood was not present, as of yet. They were talked about as two separate people.  
  
"I knew the Princess." Adariel answered, finally.  
  
"Oh!" Aragorn exclaimed, "Once my adopted brothers, Elladan and Elrohir had told me of her, but they seemed to do it reluctantly. And I, myself, had been to Lakewood but saw no living sign of her."  
  
"I am not surprised," Adariel said honestly, but cryptically.  
  
"Another thing that puzzles me," Gimli joined in, "concerns why a daughter of Elrond resided in such a dark place as Lakewood, if Aragorn is indeed right."  
  
"Another time, maybe. I beg of you, Sirs, ask of me no more!" Adariel exclaimed, growing flustered. "Why do you examine me so?"  
  
"But you must know that we are drawing near to Isengard, which is the way the Orcs are heading. Surely you remember where your own city is?" Aragorn said, giving her a surprised look over his shoulder. "Is it not on the border of the Fangorn?"  
  
On the surface, Adariel remained perfectly calm, years of practice paying off. But inside, she was panicked. She was appalled and horrified at the thought of being recognized, and her father, the only one she had known, dragging her back inside the society she had just risked her life to escape from.  
  
'Fate is cruel!' Adariel thought. 'How pitiless She is!'  
  
Never having remembered traveling out of Lakewood, Adariel naturally had no idea where Lakewood actually was. The trees had different names for different places, and depending on which breed, they varied slightly. And what was it that Aragorn had said? That Eltheran had led Lakewood further into the Darkness? Was that why nobody ever went through Lakewood without good purpose to? And Eltheran had said that it was because of the Maiden of Lakewood, herself!  
  
Adariel grit her teeth angrily, a frown marring her features. That was a problem that she would worry about later. Right now, she had to figure out a way to redirect them so that their course would take them far from Lakewood without damaging their cause. She searched for a plausible plan, but none came to mind and she fell into troubled silence.  
  
Aragorn was apparently blind to this and asked, "I wonder how far in the city has fallen. I had been there once in my youth, although I know not if you remember it, and it was already failing. You say you know the Princess, and therefore you knew Eltheran. How do you assess this situation, Lady Adariel?"  
  
Adariel took some time to think carefully before forming her answer, and her reply was hesitant. "Eltheran was heartless but had a tongue of honey, and for a while, the Princess was much deceived by him but when I left she had escaped from the web of lies. Her heart has cleared since then. I know it is so."  
  
"What of the Maiden of Lakewood?" Aragorn asked, "What news of her? Can it be that she was the conviction behind Eltheran's choices?"  
  
Adariel could not help herself; she was angered. A fire unlike Boromir's kindled through her and if any had turned they would have seen it sparkling in her eyes. "She would never do a thing of like that!"  
  
"Ah, then you knew her as you did the Princess," Aragorn said. "And I see that you are loyal to them both. What proof have you of her intentions other than your loyalty?"  
  
Legolas, who had stayed silent through the trip and listened, chose to speak up. "She may have valid reasons yet, Aragorn. Lady Adariel would not speak so strongly if she did not have good insight to the character in question. She was the adopted daughter of Elthloir, advisor of Eltheran."  
  
That struck Adariel as a strange thing to say. He did not really know her, but he had actually defended her, although it may have been unconsciously. A trill of something strange wavered through her but she shook it off. It reminded her of what she had felt up in the branches of the tree outside Moria and when she had woken up in Lothlorien to find him standing over her. Now was not the time to analyze herself.  
  
She felt a pang of guilt about lying to him about her father. It wasn't in the nature of the Elves to lie, although they did keep many secrets. To Aragorn's question, she answered quietly, "What more proof do you want? I have her body, mind, and heart."  
  
Aragorn's stride faltered but did not stop. They fell silent, and they seldom spoke afterward in their trek. Over the wide solitude they passed and their elven-cloaks faded against the background of the gray-green fields; even in the cool sunlight of mid-day few but elvish eyes would have picked them out until they were close at hand. Often in their hearts they thanked the Lady of Lorien for the gift of lembas, which they could eat and find new strength as they ran.  
  
All day the track of their enemies led straight on, going north-west without a break or turn. As once again the day wore to its end they came to long treeless slopes, where the land rose, swelling up towards a line of low humpbacked downs ahead. The orc-trail grew fainter as it bent north towards them. The ground became harder and the grass shorter. Far away to the left the river Entwash wound. No moving thing could be seen. Often Adariel, and Aragorn as well, wondered that they saw no sign of beast or man. The dwellings of the Rohirrim were for the most part many miles away down south, under the wooded eaves of the White Mountains; yet the Horse lords had formerly kept many herds and studs in the Eastemnet, this easterly region of their realm. But now all the land was empty and there was a silence that was not the quiet of peace.  
  
At dusk, they halted. The young moon was glimmering in a misty sky, but once more it gave small light. The stars were again, veiled.  
  
"I fear the Orcs have run before us as if the whips of Sauron were behind them. I fear they have already reached the forest and the dark hills and even now are passing into the shadows of the trees." Legolas said.  
  
"But is that not good?" Adariel asked, "Can you not ask for tidings from the trees?"  
  
"Only some have that power, to ask and not just listen." Aragorn answered. "And one has not been know for many centuries."  
  
"So I see." Adariel replied icily. She had not quite forgiven Aragorn for the conversation and what had passed between them earlier. Aragorn had apologized before, but Adariel found it hard to accept it although it was rather from stubbornness than ill wishes.  
  
Gimli ground his teeth. "This is a bitter end to our hope and to all our toil!"  
  
"To hope, maybe, but not to toil!" Aragorn said. "We shall not turn back this far along this traitorous road. Yet I am weary." He gazed back along the way that they had come. "There is something strange at work in this land, and I distrust the silence. I distrust even the pale Moon. The stars are faint; and I am weary as I have seldom been before, weary as no Ranger should be with a clear trail to follow. There is some will that lends speed to our foes and sets an unseen barrier before us."  
  
"Saruman!" Boromir said out of his silence, "But he shall not turn us back! Halt we must once more; for see! Even the Moon is falling into gathering cloud. But north lies our road between down and we should go on when the day returns."  
  
They went about on their own business. Gimli and Boromir slept first and Aragorn, Adariel and Legolas were left up. Aragorn was brooding with troubled eyes, and Adariel thought it best to leave him be. Her mind still hadn't come up with any plan to avoid Lakewood yet, and she had to trust the judgment of Aragorn and the wild rumors to lead them away from there. There seemed like nothing she could do.  
  
  
  
Legolas watched Adariel sitting a little way off where Aragorn was. Her face was as troubled as Aragorn's, if not more. It seemed as if a heavy weight had fallen onto her, and she was different from how he remembered her last night. He surprised himself by coming up with a mental picture that was incredibly detailed.  
  
He wondered what troubled her so much. He'd been used to Elves who were carefree by nature and although they could be serious at times, even his father laughed freely once in a while. This girl did neither. She was always so sober as if something was haunting her. Whenever she spoke, she had a look of caution as if anything she said could be held against her name.  
  
Then again, he didn't blame her, being the Maiden of Lakewood.  
  
So she was the daughter of Elthloir, advisor of Eltheran. He thought about Elthloir. He was an old Elf, maybe the age of his father or older. Certainly older than Eltheran. What Legolas HADN'T known was that he'd been keeping Elrond's daughter for all these centuries. It seemed a strange thing to do.  
  
His gaze wandered to Adariel again. Her skin seemed creamy under the pale moonlight, and her eyes looked glazed with her mood. Her hair was still bound, and he stopped to remember it as he had seen it the night before, spread out like rays of moonlight, kissing the lush grass. Her hair was never totally unbound. Even in Lothlorien, she left her fringe plaited and tucked behind her ears. He wondered how she would look with all her hair out and flowing.  
  
He saw Aragorn turn to her and tap her lightly on the shoulder. She turned. He could see that she had just been snapped out of deep thought and was startled. Aragorn said something with a sincere expression on his face, and Legolas saw Adariel nod. She stood and they walked a little way off and started talking quietly.  
  
Legolas wondered what they were talking about. Something bubbled up inside him. Something that he recognized as an emotion somewhere between angry and sad. He hadn't felt like this since.since.he was sure he hadn't felt like this at all.  
  
Watching Adariel talking to Aragorn was making him feel confused. In fact, being around Adariel nearly always made him confused. He remembered talking to her the night before. What had he said? He couldn't even remember what he had said! Something about Mirkwood, and how he didn't really like it there as everybody thought he would. He'd never told anybody that before, and she was a complete stranger yet he had somehow poured his heart out to her.  
  
What was happening to him? Could it be..? Legolas shook his head. He gazed up at Adariel, talking with a frown to Aragorn, and felt the odd swell in him somewhere between anger and sadness. The emotion, he now recognized as envy. Legolas breathed out deeply, and raised his eyes up to the cloudy sky as if pleading.  
  
Why this? Why now? And most importantly, why her?  
  
  
  
Adariel was surprised when she felt the light tap on her shoulder. She turned to see it was Aragorn, with a contemplating look on his face. He motioned her to come closer, and stepped away from the others. Adariel followed, curious as what he had to say. His face was sober and sincere, although his eyes were still troubled.  
  
When they were well away from hearing distance, Aragorn said, "I'm truly sorry, Lady Adariel, that I had treated you thus earlier to-day. I was merely surprised, and ignorant of your position."  
  
Adariel shook her head. "You are still pondering about that, Lord Aragorn? You were forgiven in my heart a long time ago, when I saw you talking with Lady Arwen."  
  
Aragorn smiled a weary smile. He seemed relieved at her response, and said, "Please, Lady Adariel. I am not high and mighty yet. Do my position justice and call me Aragorn. No formality is needed."  
  
"Then I, Sir, am merely Adariel. I have nor deserve a title at all. Such as it is. Such as it always will be." Adariel's expression remained smooth. Where any other creature would have at least hinted a small smile, her face remained expressionless as if she were merely listening to a long tale that she was indifferent to.  
  
"Is that all you pulled me out to say?" She added.  
  
Aragorn looked more serious, the weary smile seemingly wiped off his face. "Actually, it wasn't. My mind has been troubled for many days, and I fear that what Legolas had said is true. The orcs may be out of our grasp for now if we do not find a short-cut. For now, we must journey forward. I do not yet trust the tidings this land brings. You are from Lakewood, are you not? I fear that we may need to journey in that direction. Tell me, what news have you of Lakewood and its people. There are dark rumors abroad, ones I dare not repeat to your ears."  
  
Adariel sort of had a feeling that this was the real reason that he had pulled her aside. She wouldn't lie directly anymore; the strain from doing that to Legolas was enough. No, she would just leave things out. "Lakewood may not be the same as I remembered it last." She cautioned.  
  
Aragorn replied that he understood, and only asked for information that her memory allowed her.  
  
"Well," Adariel said slowly, "I remember the message coming from Rivendell to Eltheran. He seemed deeply disturbed by it, and he said afterward some words, the exact ones I do not remember, somewhere along the lines of 'Not again.' I did not know what he was talking about."  
  
"You talk of yourself in first person. You were present when he read this letter?" Aragorn interrupted, looking at her suspiciously. Adariel cursed herself for her slight of tongue.  
  
"The Princess told me of this," Adariel quickly said, trying to cover up her tracks. "I am merely repeating what she had said."  
  
"I see," Aragorn looked back down at the grass, musing. "Continue please."  
  
"Lakewood was getting darker, the sunlight not as bright as it used to be and the trees not as open as they were. Not many animals came any more and the Elves that resided there were restless. I had often felt that something was approaching, for good or for evil I knew not then. It hung upon the tongues of the leaves and the grass and dulled the sound of the water in the Lakes."  
  
"Was there anything else?" Aragorn dug further, "Did the Princess say anything to you?"  
  
"Oh, I doubt she knew much." Adariel said with a gleam in her eye. "She most likely only knew as much as I do. I am sorry that I do not remember more, but Lakewood is a place that I do not want to keep going back to. It weighs heavy upon my mind. Was that all?"  
  
"There was another thing," Aragorn said.  
  
"Oh? Yes?"  
  
"It's about.Legolas."  
  
"What about Legolas?" Adariel asked, struggling to keep the nervousness out of her voice.  
  
"Adariel," Aragorn turned and put a hand on her shoulder, "I know not about your past, nor how you came by your title. But listen now, to what I say although whether or not you follow my counsel will be up to you."  
  
He paused and looked at her earnestly. Adariel felt suspicion creeping up her back. She tilted her head slightly and waited.  
  
"I can not speak for Fate, but I can see that you may yet play a part in this war. Your mother's mother, Galadriel of the Light, once said to Frodo that even the smallest person can change to course of the future, and for my part, I now say to you that even the smallest act, the smallest will, can change the tidings of the land. It must be a heavy burden that you carry, for I see now that the Lady Galadriel has leant her your name, as Galadel, Brightstar."  
  
Aragorn drew a breath and continued, his tone was thoughtful. "Your test may be yet to come when you will be called upon to stand against the darkness. Sauron is strong, although not without weakness and for that reason I hope the favor of Fate rides with Frodo and Sam in that wretched land of Mordor. But it is not without reason that the Lady of the Woods bestows names. When that time comes, you must not stand alone."  
  
He repeated the last sentence. "You must not stand alone. I will not allow it as long as I may be by your side. For your sake, and for the sake of your kindred in Rivendell that you have yet to meet. But I am not immortal. Your folk have great perspective, but I see that you lack their experience of the world. You have been separated from your emotions?"  
  
The last part was a question. Here, Adariel opened her mouth and then closed it. He was right. Being shut up for most of her life, she was not too knowledgeable in the ways of the world. Physically, and emotionally. Whatever Aragorn had to say, it would be from his own observations.  
  
"There is something not quite right about you." Aragorn continued, holding up a hand at her protest. "Let me finish, please Adariel. You knew not even where Lakewood was. The birds back in the woods outside of Lothlorien died for you. There is something about you that I do not know. You seem to know things before any of us, yet when we were out in the plain, you seemed to know nothing. There are things about you, Adariel Galadel, that does not seem to fit in my mind."  
  
Adariel tried to divert the attention away from herself. "You said this was about Legolas."  
  
"It is. But I see that you would rather I be frank with my advice. I shall give it to you now. You are wise with the wisdom of the years, but neither of you can see what is in front of your eyes. Remember, when the time comes, you can not and will not stand alone. Walk not the roads of life by yourself. You will tire of it, as I have and long for company again." So saying, Aragorn strode away again and laid himself down for sleep to take him.  
  
"What has that got to do with Legolas?" she asked, but he was already beyond hearing in his exhaustion. Adariel sat down where she was and leaned back onto the ground. Sleep soon took her away from her troubled thoughts.  
  
  
  
Legolas had been up all through the night. He didn't need to sleep; he rarely did it, and he spent some of the time pondering why Adariel slept like mortals all the time. She certainly didn't need it. Perhaps it would be something to ask her when he could muster up the courage to talk to her.  
  
Ever since his revelation, he seemed to be more confused than ever. His friends had been wooing maidens for as long as he could remember, but he'd only laughed at them and rode out with his bow on the lookout for adventure. Of course, there wasn't any. The Third Age had only just been established and it was peaceful. His head and heart were filled with the longing to ride off against some evil, and he had not time even to glance at the women who would try to capture his attention. He left that to his friends.  
  
But now that he had his adventure, he also found that it came with a price: his heart.  
  
He remembered how Aragorn had laid his hand on Adariel's shoulder and suddenly felt a little gloomier, his eyes looking down dejectedly onto the ground. It was ridiculous of him to think that Aragorn felt anything for Adariel apart from a brother's love, after all, he knew her first as Arwen's sister. But he couldn't fight down the shadow that doubt had cast on him.  
  
It was the early hours of the new day now. Just a few more hours and they would be off again. He thought it strange that Adariel would not even know where Lakewood was. Surely she would have realized that Lakewood was the closest Elven city to the dwellings of Man. She said she was had been living as the daughter of Elthloir, advisor to Eltheran. But that didn't make sense. Elthloir loved knowledge and would have told her everything about Lakewood and the forest surrounding it.  
  
There was something that she was hiding.  
  
Legolas frowned. What was it?  
  
  
  
Adariel was woken by Legolas. "Awake! Awake!" he cried, "It is a red dawn. Strange things await us by the eaves of the forest. Good or evil, I do not know; but we are called. Awake!"  
  
They sprang up immediately and almost at once, they set off again. Slowly the green slopes rising to bare ridges that ran in a line straight towards the North. At their feet the ground was dry and the grass was short. A long strip of sunken land, about ten miles wide, lay between them and the river wandering deep in dim thickets of reed and rush. Just to the West of the southernmost slope there was a great ring where the turf had been torn and beaten by many heavy trampling feet. From it, the orc-trail ran out again, turning north along the dry skirts of the hills. Aragorn halted and examined the tracks closely.  
  
"They rested here for but a while," he said, "but even the outward trail is already old. I fear that our Elven friends were right. It is thrice twelve hours, I am guessing, since the Orcs stood where we now stand. If they held to their pace then at sundown yesterday they would have reached the borders of Fangorn."  
  
Turning to Adariel, he added, "I hope that your people in Lakewood have not fallen to shadow yet, for all our sakes."  
  
"I can see nothing away north or west but the grass dwindling into the horizon." Said Gimli. "Could we see the forest, if we climbed up the hills?"  
  
"Nay, it is still far away," said Aragorn. "If I remember rightly, these downs run eight leagues or more to the north and many more northwest to the issuing of the Entwash.  
  
"Well, let us go on," said Gimli. "My legs must forget the miles. They would be more willing, if my heart were less heavy."  
  
The sun was sinking when at last they drew near to the end of the line of downs. For many hours they had marched on without rest. They were slowing now, and Gimli's back was bent. Stone-hard are the Dwarves in labor or journey, but this endless chase began to tell on him as all hope fled his heart. Aragorn walked behind him, grim and silent, stooping now and again to scan some print or mark on the ground. Boromir walked in front of Adariel, muttering to himself. Only Legolas seemed to step as lightly as ever, his feet hardly seeming to press the grass, leaving no footprints as he passed; Adariel's steps were weighed down by her worries.  
  
"Let us go up onto this green hill!" Legolas cried. Wearily they followed him, climbing the long slope until they came out upon the top. It was a round hill that was smooth and bare, much to Adariel's disappointment. She had hoped for tidings from the trees, but none grew there.  
  
The sun sank and the shadows of evening fell like a curtain. They were alone in a gray formless world without mark or measure. Only far away north- west there was a deeper darkness against the dying light: the Mountains of Mist and the forest at their feet.  
  
"Nothing can guide us to-night." Said Gimli. "We must halt again and wear the night away. It is growing cold!"  
  
"The wind is north from the snows of the mountains," said Aragorn.  
  
"And in the morning, it will be in the East," observed Legolas. "But rest, if you must. Yet do not cast all hope away. Tomorrow is unknown. New glimmers are often found in the rising of the Sun."  
  
"Three suns already have risen on our chase and brought no counsel." Boromir muttered. "But I will not give up, if only for the sake of the Little Ones."  
  
The night grew colder, Aragorn, Boromir and Gimli had slept fitfully. Adariel stayed up that night, for she enjoyed the refreshing winds that blew the hard coldness upon them. It was crisp in its calling. Legolas, as he usually did she guessed, showed no signs of sleep. His eyes were clear but he remained silent. The wind swirled about her, making the edge of her tunic flap a little.  
  
The silence wore roughly on her, but she bore it with little bitterness. She'd decided that this was a night to let her thoughts flow away with the wind. Tonight, she would let her worries go and just sit and enjoy the night. Maybe she would get a sudden inspiration in her calmness. She closed her eyes as she stood against the wind.  
  
There were soft footsteps on the grass that stopped near her. She ignored them. They didn't move away.  
  
"Why do you sleep like the Mortals?" came a musical voice intruding on her mind. Adariel opened her eyes and looked around for the owner of the voice. He was standing beside her.  
  
"I was not asleep." Adariel retorted, gesturing down at herself. She was standing.  
  
"I observed that." His voice had a smile in it. "I only meant previous nights."  
  
Adariel thought about it. Of course he'd notice. He wasn't used to sleeping unless need called for it. To her, it was an old habit when the night would take her away from the troubles and the darkness surrounding her and whisk her off away on the roads of starlight where she would tumble upon beams of moonlight. The sky was rich with dreams and the horse of Sleep took her to their halls.  
  
"I sleep out of habit." Adariel answered "It was something that I did often in Lakewood."  
  
They said no more between them until Legolas broke the silence once again. "I fear for our cause."  
  
"The Ring?" Adariel responded.  
  
"Nay, for the tormentors of Pippin and Merry. They are beyond our speed, although if we meet them again in Isengard, it may already be too late. A darkness is nearby. It lays heavy upon my mind."  
  
Adariel whirled, annoyed. "Do not speak so! I had cast out tonight as a night when I drifted away from such thoughts and worries. Do you deny me that single pleasure?"  
  
Legolas bowed immediately. "For that, I am truly sorry."  
  
"It is too late now, I suppose," Adariel said. "My thoughts have fled back to my body and the night is ruined for my purpose. Speak on. I can not sleep in peace and shall stay up and stray with the dawn. Until then I do not protest company. Especially one who asked it of me in the first place."  
  
They talked softly of Mirkwood and Lakewood, each having been overcast once with bitter darkness. Adariel admitted that she was worried for Lakewood. "It was always a beautiful place, even when the shadow was upon it. I would hate to see it destroyed by betrayal."  
  
The conversation broke up then, and Adariel was not willing to let on any more. Legolas paced near the sleeping forms of their friends, sometimes singling softly to himself in his own tongue and as he sang the white stars opened in the hard black vault above. So the night passed.  
  
They were all up for the dawn and saw it grow slowly in the sky, now bare and cloudless until at last the sunrise came. It was pale and clear. The wind was in the East as Legolas had predicted and the mists rolled away. Wide lands lay bleak about them in the bitter light.  
  
Ahead and eastward they saw the windy uplands of Rohan. All apart from Adariel had caught a glimpse of it many days ago as they traveled from the Great River. North-westward stalked the dark forest of Fangorn; still ten leagues away stood its shadowy eaves, and its further slopes into the distant blue. Lakewood lay hiding there.  
  
The orc-trail turned from the downs toward the Entwash that flowed from the forest to meat them.  
  
Following with his keen eyes the trail to the river, and then the river back towards the forest, Aragorn saw a shadow on the distant green, a dark swift-moving blur. He cast himself upon the ground and listened again intently. But Adariel stood beside him, shading her bright eyes with her lender hand, and she saw not a shadow, nor a blur, but the small figures of horsemen, many of them, and the glint of morning on the tips of their spears. Far behind them a dark smoke rose in thin curling threads. There was a silence in the empty fields.  
  
"Riders!" cried Aragorn, springing to his feet. "Many riders on swift steeds are coming towards us!"  
  
"Yes," said Legolas, "there are one hundred and five. Yellow is their hair and bright are their spears. Their leader is very tall." He too had followed Adariel and looked into the distance and seen the riders that approached.  
  
Aragorn smiled at them. "Keen are the eyes of the Elves."  
  
"Nay," Adariel spoke for the first time that day. "The riders are little more than five leagues distant."  
  
"Five leagues or one," Gimli said, "we cannot escape them in this empty land. Shall we wait for them here or go on our way, still?"  
  
"We will wait." Aragorn said. "I am weary and our hunt has failed. Or at least others were before us. These horsemen are riding back down the orc- trail. We may get news from them. They are not Elves of Lakewood, but Men."  
  
"There are empty saddles, but I see no Hobbits," Legolas said, gazing out across the grassland.  
  
"I did not say that we will hear good news," said Aragorn. "But good or evil will await it here. Stand fast but be on your guard."  
  
They went down from the hill to avoid being easy target and halted a little above the hill's foot, wrapping themselves in their cloaks. They sat huddled together upon the faded grass. The time passed slowly and heavily. The wind was thin and searching. Gimli was uneasy.  
  
"What do you know of these horsemen, Aragorn?" he said. "Do we sit here waiting for sudden death?"  
  
"I have been among them," answered Aragorn. "They are proud and willful, but they are true hearted and generous in thought and deed; bold but not cruel; wise but unlearned, writing no books but singing many songs. But I do not know what has happened here of late, nor in what mind the Rohirrim may now be between the traitor Saruman and the threat of Sauron, nor the tidings from Lakewood. They have long been the friends of the people of Gondor, though they are not akin to them. At least they will not love Orcs.  
  
"But Gandalf spoke of a rumor that they pay tribute to Mordor," said Gimli.  
  
"They pay tribute to Mordor?" Adariel asked, eyes narrowing.  
  
"It is but a rumor," assured Aragorn. "And I believe it no more than Boromir does." Boromir nodded in agreement.  
  
"You will soon learn the truth," said Legolas. "Already they approach."  
  
Adariel felt uneasy. She did not like the company of Men and did not wish to find herself in a large crowd of them, unarmed. Reaching in front of her, she plucked several bows from Legolas' quiver and put them in her own. He turned around and looked at her questioningly. She shook her head in answer.  
  
She could hear the distant beat of galloping hoofs. The horsemen, following the trail, had turned from the river and were drawing near the downs. They were riding like the wind. Something was familiar about one of the hoof beats but Adariel was too nervous to dwell upon it. She bit her lip, deep in the back of her hood and looked out with anxious eyes.  
  
Now the cries of clear strong voices came ringing over the fields. Suddenly they swept up with a noise like thunder and the foremost horseman swerved, passing by the foot of the hill and leading the host back southward along the western skirts of the downs. After him they rode, a long line of mail- clad men, swift and shining.  
  
Their horses were of great stature, strong and clean-limbed; their gray coats glistened. There was a flash of white that caught Adariel's eye. It was a darker horse, almost brown. Its mane was unbraided and its tail was matted. It was being led by one of the horsemen and it galloped easily, almost in a canter. It passed by quickly as they all did. In pairs, they galloped by and though every now and then one rose in his stirrups and gazed ahead and to either side, they appeared not to perceive the three strangers sitting silently and watching them. The host had almost passed when Aragorn stood up and called in a loud voice:  
  
"What news from the North, Riders of Rohan?"  
  
It was like a chain reaction. There was a ripple from the front of the line and all the horses  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
End of Chapter 11  
  
Reviews please! NO FLAMES but constructive criticism is very welcome! -Spirit Star  
  
Sorry I've been a BIT slack with the romance.it just didn't fit in with the plot until this half of the story, that's all. Besides, Elves are immortal so I have a feeling it's kinda OOC for them to rush things. Plus, I live in the southern hemisphere so I use the British version of spelling. But since my spellcheck's set to American (I'm too lazy to change it) I'll just make everything spelt the American way so 'grey' is now 'gray', etc.  
  
PS Just out of pure curiosity, about how old do I sound to you? 


	12. Chapter 12: In which the shade of doubt ...

Disclaimer: Gee, I'm sick of disclaimers. Let's just say that anybody who didn't appear in any of the works by Tolkien belongs to me. The End.  
  
  
  
  
  
Echoes of the Narbeleth  
  
Spirit Star  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 12: In which the shade of doubt darkens  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
There came a great rippling of muscle and a large clanking of armor as row by row, the horses reared as their riders turned them sharply. Like the rippling of grass, swift and soft, the Riders circled around them. Their spears were drawn downward and aimed at their hearts. Adariel fought the impulse to reach for her arrows.  
  
Aragorn stood silent and the others were left with lingering thoughts about how things would turn out. The Riders drew inward and came closer. The circle tightened. Without a spoken word, they suddenly halted. The points of arrows shone along with the spear blades. One rode forward. He was the tallest one and his horse was proud and prancing. Still he advanced until his spear was within a foot of Aragorn's breast. Still, he did not stir.  
  
"Who are you, and what are you doing in this land?" said the Rider, using the Common Speech of the West but in a tone not unlike Boromir's. Adariel saw Boromir snort a little.  
  
"I am called Strider," answered Aragorn calmly. "I came out of the North and I am hunting a band of Orcs."  
  
The Rider leaped from his horse. The horse pranced backwards, eyes rolling. Giving his spear to another who rode up and dismounted at his side, he drew his sword and stood face to face with Aragorn, surveying him keenly. The blade flashed white. Adariel closed her eyes and held her breath in the shadow of her hood. She was tense, and put all her concentration in her ears. But no clashing of metal came. It was the Rider who spoke again.  
  
"When you called out, I thought that you were Orcs yourselves. But you know little of Orcs if you hunt them in this way. They are swift, well armed and they travel in large groups. You would have been slaughtered if you had caught up with them. But there is something strange about you, Strider. That is no name for a Man that you give, even one from the North. And you are clad in strange clothing. Have you sprung from the ground? If you had not, then we would surely have sighted you as we rode past. Are you elvish folk?"  
  
"No," Aragorn said. "Only two of us are amongst their number, but we have passed through the Golden Woods of Lothlorien and the gifts and the favor of the Lady go with us."  
  
The Rider looked at them with renewed wonder, but his eyes became dim and his face became grim. "Then there is indeed a Lady in the Golden Wood, as the old stories tell!" he said. "Few escape her nets, they say. These are strange days! But if you have her favor, then you are also net weavers and sorcerers, maybe. You bring strangeness in your stride." He turned and threw a cold glance at the rest of them. "Why do you not speak? Have you no tongue that we may understand?"  
  
Before the rest of them could say anything, Boromir stepped forward with anger laced in his voice. "Speak again, Rider of the West, and the brothership between Gondor and Rohan may end here."  
  
"We know of you, Boromir son of Denethor," the Rider said, his eyes on Boromir. "Peace then, we wish no conflict upon you. But what of your companions?"  
  
Gimli rose and planted his feet firmly apart: his hand gripped the handle of his ax and his dark eyes flashed. "You dare insult the Lady of the Woods? Give me your name, horse-master, and I will give you mine. And more." He jerked his ax menacingly.  
  
"As for that," said the Rider, staring down at the Dwarf, "the stranger should declare himself first. But I shall humor you. I am Eomer, son of Eomund, and am called the Third Marshal of the Riddermark."  
  
"Then, Eomer son of Eomund, I am Gimli son of Dwarf Gloin. You speak with foolishness of the evil that is fair beyond your thought. Your only excuse is little wit, and I pardon you for it."  
  
Eomer's eyes flashed and the Men of Rohan muttered angrily, spears and arrows pointed closer. Eomer raised his sword. "I would cut off your heard, beard and all, Master Dwarf, if it were a little higher from the ground."  
  
"He stands not alone," said Legolas, bending his bow and fitting an arrow with hands that moved quicker than sight. "You would die before your stroke fell."  
  
"If it weren't for the peace between Gondor and Rohan, know that I would join him." Boromir added, shifting his hand to his hilt, then dropping it back to his side again. The Riders of Rohan advanced again.  
  
Things would have gone ill, but Aragorn sprang between them and raised his hand. "Your pardon, Eomer!" he cried. "When you know more you will understand why you have angered my companions so. We intend no evil to Rohan, nor to any of its folk, neither to man nor to horse. Will you not hear our tale before you strike?"  
  
"That, I will agree to do," Eomer said, lowering his blade. "But wanderers in Riddermark would do well to be less haughty in these dark days. And there is one who has not yet spoken." He said the first part of the speech with a glare at Gimli and Legolas, but then turned his eyes to Adariel, whose hood was still up.  
  
"Well? Speak, stranger, but take heed what you say!" Eomer cried. All eyes turned on Adariel.  
  
"I have naught to say," she said finally. Where everybody else had thrown back their hoods, Adariel's still hid her face from view.  
  
"Then," Eomer said, "you are different from your companions. Now, Strider, first tell me your right name before you continue with your tale."  
  
"I will that, if you tell me whom you serve," said Aragorn. "Are you friend or foe of Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor?"  
  
"I serve only the Lord of the Mark, Theoden King son of Thengel," answered Eomer. "We do not serve the Power of the Black Land far away, but neither are we yet at open war with him. If you are fleeing from him you had better leave this land. There is trouble now on all our borders and we are threatened. But we desire only to be free and to live as we have lived, keeping our own, and serving no foreign lord, good or evil. We welcome guests kindly in better days but in these times the unbidden stranger finds us to be hard in our judgment. Come! Who are you? Whom do YOU serve? At whose command do you hunt Orcs in our land that we keep guarded?"  
  
"I serve no man," Aragorn said. "But the servants of Sauron I pursue into whatever land they may go. There are few among mortal Men who know more of Orcs; and I do not hunt them in this fashion out of choice. The Orcs whom we pursued took captive two of my friends. Even as I am without a horse, I go on foot. I am not weaponless."  
  
Aragorn threw back his cloak. The elven-sheath glittered as he grasped it, and the bright blade of Anduril shone like a sudden flame as he swept it out. "Elendil!" he cried. "I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, and am called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dunadan, the hair of Isildur Elendil's son of Gondor. Here is the Sword that was Broken and is forged again! Will you aid me or thwart me? Choose swiftly!"  
  
They looked at him. All of them. Adariel was surprised at his sudden change in stature and she could tell that none of her companions had seen him in this mood before. Eomer seemed to have shrunk even as Aragorn was speaking. There was a flame that flickered in his eyes and a brief vision of majestic power that shone. For a moment it seemed in Adariel's eyes that a white flame flickered on the brows of Aragorn like a shining crown, and she stepped back.  
  
Eomer stepped back too, with a look of awe on his face. He cast down his proud eyes. "These are strange days indeed," he said, "Dreams and legend spring to life out of the very grass that we have nurtured. Tell me, lord, what brings you here? And what was the meaning of the dark words? What doom do you bring out of the North?"  
  
"The doom of choice," said Aragorn. "You may say this to Theoden son of Thengel: open war lies before him, with Sauron or against him. None may live now as they have lived. Few shall keep what they call their own. If chance allows, I will come to the king myself. Now I am in great need, and I ask for your aid, and if you cannot give that, at least give us your tidings. You heard that we are pursuing an orc-host that carried off our friends. What can you tell us?"  
  
"And," Adariel spoke up, "what news have you of Lakewood in the Fangorn?"  
  
"Ah," Eomer said. "So the Silent One speaks at last and we may learn more of him. Lakewood is a place we dare not speak of. Rumors arise that it has fallen under a great shadow but our folk are not one to mix with Elves and we go about our ways. Still, if we avoided the Fangorn in the days of peace, we avoid it more so now. As for the Orcs, they are destroyed."  
  
"And our friends?"  
  
"We slew none but Orcs, likewise, we found none but Orcs."  
  
"But that is strange indeed," Aragorn frowned. "Did you search the slain? Were there no bodies other than those of the orc kind? They would be small, childlike to your eyes but in gray."  
  
"We found no Dwarves or children," said Eomer. "We counted all the slain we burnt their bodies as is our custom. The ashes are smoking still."  
  
Adariel gave an involuntary shudder. Eomer turned his eyes on her. "Do not mock our ways, Sir. You are a guest in this land."  
  
"I meant not to offend, Eomer son of Eomund." Adariel replied, "Just as I am sure you meant no offense when you called me Sir." She threw back her hood and flung the material of her cloak outward and shook her bound hair free. It shone like gold for a second and she took up the slight glow in the eyes of the mortals like one of the High Elven, but it flickered for a second and then faded.  
  
"Lady," Eomer gasped, "I beg your pardon. I see now why your companions were so angered at my slight tongue a while ago. Are you the Lady of the Golden Woods?"  
  
Adariel smirked. "Do not make a fool of yourself, Eomer son of Eomund. She is fairer than I and still resides in Lothlorien. I am only her daughter's daughter."  
  
"My sincere apologies again, Lady. But the curiosity in my heart refuses to burn out and I must ask of you how children came to be in your travels." Eomer said, addressing the latter to Aragorn. But it was Gimli who spoke out, his hand still on the hilt of his ax.  
  
"We do not speak of dwarves or children," said Gimli. "Our friends were hobbits."  
  
"Hobbits?" said Eomer. "And what may they be? It is a strange name to be called by. We have not heard of the race of hobbits."  
  
"A strange name, for a strange folk," agreed Boromir. "But these were very dear to us. It seems that you have heard in Rohan of the words that troubled us in Minas Tirith. They spoke of the Halfling. These hobbits are Halflings."  
  
"Halflings!" scorned the Rider that stood beside Eomer, carrying his spear. "Halflings! But they are only a little people in the old songs and in children's tales out of the North. Do we walk in legends or on the green earth while the sun shines high?"  
  
"A man may do both," said Aragorn. "For not we, but those who come after us will make the legends of our time. The green earth, you say? That is a mighty matter of legend, though you tread it under the light of the sun!"  
  
"Time is pressing on us," said the Rider, ignoring Aragorn's words. "We must hasten south, lord. Leg us leave these wild folk to their fancies. Or let us bind them and take them to the king."  
  
"Peace, Eothain!" said Eomer in his own tongue. "Leave me here a while. Tell the eored to assemble on the path and make ready to ride to the Entwade."  
  
Eothain muttered to himself, but turned his back and spoke to the others. Soon they drew off and left Eomer alone with the five companions.  
  
"All that you say is strange, Aragorn," He said. "Yet I see it is the truth. We of the Mark do not lie, so we are not easily deceived. But you have not told all. Will you not speak more full of your errand so that I may judge on what best to do?"  
  
"I set out from Imladris, as it is named in the rhyme, many weeks ago. With me went the Halflings. Of them, there were four. My errand was to go with Boromir to aid his city in the war against Mordor. Gandalf the Gray was our leader."  
  
"Gandalf!" Eomer exclaimed, "Gandalf Grayhame is know to us, but his name is no longer in favor with the King. He is ever the herald of strange events. A bringer of evil, some now say. Indeed, since his last coming in the summer all things have gone amiss. At that time our troubles with Saruman started. Until he came, we thought of Saruman as a friend to Rohan, but then Gandalf came and warned us that war was surfacing in Isengard. He said that he himself had been a prisoner of Orthanc and had hardly escaped, and he begged for help. But Theoden turned deaf to his please, and he went away, taking the horse that is called Shadowfax, the most precious of Theoden's steeds and chief of the Meeras, which only the Lord of the Mark may ride upon. The sire of their race was the great horse of Eorl that knew the speech of Men. Seven nights ago, Shadowfax returned but was wild and still lets no man handle him."  
  
"Then Shadowfax has found his way from the North alone," said Aragorn; "for it was there that he and Gandalf parted. But alas! Gandalf will ride no longer. He fell into darkness in the Mines of Moria and will walk the earth no more!"  
  
"That is heavy tidings," said Eomer. "At least to me and I suspect to my men as well. But it will be naught to the king. We had come upon a stray mare just now. You may have seen her as we came past for she bore no rider and her coat was matted with dirt. But we men of the Mark have reasonable judgment on these things and she is a great horse, resembling one that had departed this land long ago as a gift paid in return for service."  
  
"We have come on foot from the shadow of Tol Brandir hoping for the rescue of our friends." Aragorn said grimly, musing to himself."  
  
"What? On foot?" cried Eomer.  
  
"Yes, as you see us."  
  
Eomer's eyes widened slightly with wonder. "Strider is too poor a name, son of Arathorn," he said. "Wingfoot, I now name you. This deed of the five friends should be sung in many a hall. Forty leagues and five you have measured and now the fourth day has ended! But now I must take my leave. I return in haste to Theoden. We feel war stirring although we do not openly defy the Black Land. We will not forsake Gondor in there time of need. Our old alliance is not yet forgotten."  
  
"Then you do not pay tribute to Sauron?" said Gimli.  
  
"We do not and we never have," said Eomer firmly with a slight flash in his eyes. "But take care there may be creatures afoot and of them I dare not speak for. Some years ago, the Lord of the Black Land wished to purchase horses from us but we refused and so he set about plundering from our stables with sent Orcs. Our fight against Orcs is bitter. But now our minds turn to Saruman for he is a great deal more craftier that Orcs, and has many guises. Some say that he walks here and there as an old man hooded and cloaked. Very like Gandalf, as many recall. Won't you come to the house of the Lord of the Mark with me and see for yourself?"  
  
"I will come when I may," said Aragorn.  
  
"There is trouble stirring. Scouts warned me of the orc-host coming out of the East Wall three nights ago, and among them they reported that some bore the white badges of Saruman. There may be a league between Orthanc and the Dark Tower, I fear. There was a battle when we overtook the Orcs near the borders of the Entwood. Fifteen of my men were lost and twelve horses also, but victory was ours. We have been too long away. We are needed south and west. Will you not come? There are spare horses as you see. There is work for the swords to do. Yes, and we could find a use for Gimli's ax and the elven bows, if they will pardon my rash words concerning the Lady of the Woods."  
  
Adariel snorted. Up until then she had stayed silent, contemplating things over. Eomer's tidings of Lakewood troubled her in a way that she could not yet make sense of. There was no immediate danger to her knowledge, yet she knew it was there. She caught the last parts of the closing conversation.  
  
"…I will lend you horses, though I ask only this: when your quest is achieved, or is proved vain, return with the horses over the Entwade to Meduseld, the high house in Edoras where Theoden now sits. Thus you shall prove to him that I have not misjudged. In this I place myself, and maybe my very life in the keeping of your good faith. Do not fail."  
  
"I will not." Aragorn answered.  
  
Eomer proceeded to give orders that the spare horses were to be lent to the strangers and there was great wonder among the Riders.  
  
A great dark gray horse was brought to Aragorn and he mounted it. "Hasufel is his name," said Eomer. "May he bear you well and to better fortune than Garulf, his late master!"  
  
A smaller and lighter horse, but restive and fiery was brought to Legolas. Arod was his name, but Legolas asked them to take off the saddle and the rein. "I need them not," he said and leapt lightly up. Arod was tame and willing beneath him, moving here and there with but a spoken word or touch. Such as the elvish way with beasts.  
  
A light gray horse was brought before Boromir and he took it. It was called Redmark and was fierce and snappy. Boromir mustered it by force and leaned his weight on it before he adjusted his seat. The horse danced from side to side, then bucked a little before settling down.  
  
A light brown horse, somewhere between a horse and a pony halted in front of Adariel and swished its tail patiently. "This is Windbourne. He is the gentlest we have but will bare you great speed, such as his breeding."  
  
But Adariel's eyes were not for Windbourne and trained upon the mare with the matted coat, swaying her head wildly and snorting clouds of soot. She had had a growing suspicion in her mind, and it had been confirmed by the tale that Eomer had given them. "I value your loan, but I must insist that Windbourne, great though he is, take the place of the mare that you spoke of."  
  
"Alas, what you ask for I can not give to you." Eomer said gravely. "That mare is what we suspect to be a kindred of Shadowfax, although we cannot be sure. The Lord of the Mark cannot ride upon Shadowfax for he is fierce and untamed but if our suspicions prove true, then this mare will be his replacement."  
  
"But will you not return a found beast to its rightful owner?" Adariel asked innocently.  
  
"What? You claim to own this mare?"  
  
"I do." Confirmed Adariel with a slight nod of her head. The men of the eored had already mounted, and looked at Adariel in scorn from the tops of their mounts. "Do you doubt my word?"  
  
"I do not doubt, but I am reluctant to believe. What proof have you that she is indeed yours? Is it not a case of your word against mine?"  
  
"Then we would have to take the word of the beast itself!" Adariel replied, her amusement was clear at the look on the Riders' faces. It was halfway between scorn and disbelief. The dirt speckled mare that Adariel had recognized as Starliss danced in circles, but coming no closer.  
  
"Starliss, tolo dan heltha anim!" Adariel said in Elvish, and adding a quiet "Breeeeee naa!"  
  
To the wonder of the people present, the strange mare reared up, her eyes wild again and shook herself to rid herself of what dirt she could and trotted to Adariel's side and rounded up beside her. Underneath the dirt, they saw a well-kept coat that shone white. Starliss snorted, but did not speak to Adariel.  
  
"All is as you say!" Eomer said. Even Eothain was silenced, for the Men of the Mark had great respect for the wills of the horses. "Starliss, I have heard you call her. That is the name of the Sister of Shadowfax whom the Lord of the Mark gave to an mysterious stranger who wandered about here many years ago in return for a great favor."  
  
"So you say," Adariel replied as she loosened the saddle and the reins and eased them off, "and so it is." She mounted, and Starliss gave a shudder of relief at finding a familiar weight.  
  
Up until now, Eothain had been silent but he could not keep his indignation any longer and it seeped out through his mouth in the form of harsh words. "It may be well enough for these lords of Gondor, but who has heard of a horse of the Mark being given to a Dwarf?"  
  
"No one," said Gimli. "And do not trouble yourselves. No one will hear of it, least of all myself. I will sooner walk than sit on the back of any beast so great, free or begrudged."  
  
"But you must ride now, or you will hinder us." Aragorn reasoned.  
  
"I would consent to have you sit with me upon Redmark," Boromir added quickly, "But look how he prances! His temper is not kindly and I fear that you will be less well of had you consented to run after us."  
  
Adariel did not feel like riding with Gimli. She wasn't used to riding double, for one, and she also felt a little protective of her mare. It wasn't that she did not trust dwarves, although it was true that she was not very fond of them. Adariel decided it was that she would not feel comfortable having a stranger so close to her physically. Especially one of the opposite sex.  
  
"Come, you shall sit by me, friend Gimli," said Legolas. "Then all will be well and you need neither borrow a horse nor be troubled by one."  
  
A breath of relief came from those on horses, and everybody except Eothain was glad for the solution that had been presented. Guilt echoed in Adariel's heart and she wavered a little and toyed with the thought of volunteering herself for the task, but it was Starliss who decided for her.  
  
"Neeeebbbadddrr gaaalla ammebbrrrrr Eeerree brrememem neeiii." Starliss snorted, her eyes rolling with impatience. "I know what you are thinking, and I beg of you not to."  
  
Gimli was lifted up behind his friend and he clung to him. Not unlike one who cannot swim sitting upon a rocking boat. Legolas did not seem to mind, and swung Arod outward with a slight touch and joined Hasufel and Aragorn. Starliss didn't wait for a motion from Adariel but set off after them on her own accord.  
  
"Farewell, and may you find what you seek!" cried Eomer. "Return with what speed you can and let our swords shine together hereafter!"  
  
"I will come," said Aragorn.  
  
"And I will come too!" added Gimli. "The matter of the Lady Galadriel lies still between us. I have yet to teach you gentle speech."  
  
"But I do not take offense in your words to me," Adariel added as she set off after Boromir. "Let us part as friends!" She ignored Gimli's glare and took no notice of his sputtering rage nor Legolas and Aragorn's amused smiles.  
  
"As friends, then, farewell! And as for you, Master Dwarf, so many things have chanced that to learn the praise of a fair lady under the loving strokes of a Dwarf's ax will seem no great wonder. And I say again to you, Farewell!" Eomer called, and with that, the parted.  
  
The horses were swift and even Arod did not tire of the extra weight of Gimli upon his back. Aragorn rode with his head beside Hasufel's neck, his eyes intent upon the ground. They followed him now, and he said not a word as they hurried onward. Starliss kept up easily, although Adariel could see she was tired. As they rode forward the day was overcast. Low gray clouds came over the sky. A mist shrouded the sun. Ever nearer the tree-clad slopes of Fangorn loomed. They saw no sign of any trail to right or left but here and there they passed single Orcs, fallen in their tracks as they ran with gray feathered arrows sticking in their backs.  
  
At last as the afternoon was ending, they came to the eaves of the forest, and in an open glade among the first trees they found the place of the great burning: the ashes were still hot and smoking. Beside was a great pile of helms and mail, shields, broken swords, bows and darts and other gear of war. Upon a stake in the middle was set a great goblin head and upon its shattered helm the white badge could still be seen. Further away was a newly raised mound and around it were planted fifteen spears: one for each Rider who fell there.  
  
They searched far and wide for signs of the Hobbits but found no trace by nightfall.  
  
"We can do no more," said Gimli sadly. "We have been set many riddles since we came to Tol Brandir, but this is the hardest to unravel. I would guess that the burned bones of the hobbits are now mingled with the Orcs'. It will be hard news for Frodo and Sam if they make their way back from Mordor, and even harder for the old one left in Rivendell. Elrond was against their coming."  
  
"But not Gandalf," said Legolas.  
  
"But Gandalf chose to come himself and he was first to fall," said Gimli. "His foresight has failed him this time."  
  
"Hush!" Adariel bid them," She grew more and more anxious as the drew closer and closer near the Fangorn.  
  
A little way beyond the battle field, they made their camp under a spreading tree: it looked like a chestnut, and yet it still bore many broad brown leaves of a former year, like dry hands with long splayed fingers; they rattled mournfully in the night breeze.  
  
Adariel stood under it and looked up into the think limbs that stood vulnerable in its sorrow. "Sssssellltthha ssooommmeth, Treeela? What ails you, Old/Dear one?"  
  
The tree replied in a gusty voice of its long tale and Adariel listened with her head bowed and her hand upon its trunk, unconsciously running it along the rough bark. "Woe has befallen me and my kind!" the tree started, letting a few brown leaves float off the ends of its dry fingers. "Lakewood and Isengard have both failed us and we stand unable to defend ourselves from the flames. I hear my people cry out and see the darkness that radiates from the forest. I know of you and your journey yet it brings no hope to my roots. The very earth under my feet is tainted and poisoned."  
  
Adariel shook her head. "So it is true? Lakewood has fallen under Saruman?"  
  
"No!" the tree groaned. "Saruman is not strong enough, even for one of disgrace like Eltheran the Betrayer of the Fair Kind. Not he! It was the One in the Land of Fire."  
  
Adariel shivered at the word. She had thought that it was Saruman who would break Eltheran. The Dark Lord on his throne in distant Mordor did not seem like he would want a place like Lakewood. But then again, they were Elves. And that alone was reason enough.  
  
"He came then? But surely Fangorn would have come!"  
  
"No he came not! It was his servants that carried out his bidding, and Fangorn could not come for a terrible screaming and a thick black cloud bound the trees in the forest for many a day and when it cleared, it was too late."  
  
"Too late? Too late for what?" Adariel asked with unchecked anxiousness thickening her voice.  
  
"Too late for them all. The Elderlings are no more." And with that, the tree fell silent again and its limbs creaked mournfully and its fingers rattling in the night breeze.  
  
"Lady Adariel!" she heard someone call and she found Legolas looking at her with a glint of something that resembled worry in his eyes. "You are not well?"  
  
Adariel snatched her hand away from the trunk of the chestnut tree and hastily wiped a tear from her cheek that she had not noticed. "I am just a little saddened by some news that I have received."  
  
"News?" Legolas gave her a look that resembled slight suspicion and wonder; "There are no messengers."  
  
"It is news that the land brings. Do you not feel the change in the air?" Adariel looked up into the naked limbs of the tree again and sighed before turning her gaze to the shadow of the Fangorn and then back to her companions who were discussing something. "I fear for the home that I have resided in," she said and walked past him to join the company. He followed after and caught up as she arrived in their midst.  
  
"…let us light a fire!" Gimli shivered. "I care no longer for danger. Let the Orcs come as thick as summer moths around a candle."  
  
"If those unhappy hobbits are astray in the woods, it might draw them hither," noted Boromir.  
  
"No!" Adariel said sharply as she caught onto the discussion. "There are worse things than Orcs in the forest. We are near the mountain marches of Saruman. We are also on the very edge of the Fangorn, and it is perilous to touch the trees of that wood. The elves in Lakewood gather dead branches that the trees cast off and light it in clearings where it may not offend the children of Fangorn." She had left out the treason of Lakewood, and realized that somewhere in her heart she had hoped it hadn't come to that.  
  
"But the Rohirrim made a great burning here yester-day!" Gimli argued, "and they felled trees for the fire, as can be seen. Yet they passed the night after safely here when their labor was ended."  
  
"There were many of them," Aragorn pointed out, "and they do not heed the wrath of Fangorn, for they seldom come here and they do not go under the trees. But our paths are likely to lead us into the very forest itself. So have a care and cut no living wood!"  
  
"Trees are also very close to my heart," Adariel added for good measure. "As are birds. Mark no scars on my friends in this land!"  
  
"There is no need," said Gimli. "The Riders have left chip and bough enough, and there is dead wood lying plenty." He went off to gather fuel and busied himself with building and kindling a fire; but Aragorn sat silent with his back to the great tree, deep in thought.  
  
Adariel was restless, and the tree spoke no more. Her glance kept sliding to the shadow of the thick trees away in the distance and she paced. She wanted so badly to ride at least to the edge and ask for tidings from the ones who had sheltered her since her memory allowed.  
  
Her only distraction was Legolas, whom she noted to be listening to voices calling from the distance. She had heard them too, but faintly. There was the night breeze that carried the sounds and swishes of the leaves in the canopy, but it was not as strong as it was chilling.  
  
When the Dwarf had a small bright blaze going, they all drew close to it and sat together, shrouding the light with their hooded forms. Adariel found herself tightly squeezed between Legolas and Boromir and felt uncomfortable even as the heat ran its course through her body. She gave a slight push in both directions, hoping that unconsciously they would lean the other way. They didn't.  
  
"Look!" Legolas said. "The tree is glad of the fire!"  
  
Adariel looked and was surprised to see that it appeared to be bending this way and that so as to come above the flames, while the upper branches were stooping low.  
  
"Why do you lean toward the one that you fear?" Adariel asked out loud in the language of the trees. It came out as the slight swish that leaves made when they were rubbing together in the wind. Adariel's eyes narrowed with curiosity.  
  
"When one is beyond hope's reach," the tree answered, "one does not fear."  
  
Before Adariel could look down, she heard a voice say, "That is not the language of the Elves! That is a witch language!"  
  
It was Gimli who had spoken, and he sat to the other side of Aragorn, next to Legolas. Adariel's eyes widened slightly and she cursed at her slip of tongue and the curiosity that had drawn it out. She was about to answer, when Legolas said, "It is the language of the Trees, which few know of. There was one and his name was Beorn but he is far away from here."  
  
"If you are as he says he is," Aragorn said with wonder alight in his eyes, "then your value increases with every passing minute! Why did you not tell us of this earlier?"  
  
"My reasons are my own," Adariel answered.  
  
"Keep them then," Gimli answered tersely, his arms folded in his hooded cloak. "We want none from a witch."  
  
"She is not! Was that not what you said of Lady Galadriel when you had first walked in Lothlorien? And do not scorn so easily her daughter's daughter!" Legolas shot out, and to Adariel it seemed as if Gimli had personally insulted him. She felt slightly surprised, but surprise was nothing toward the gratitude she felt bubbling up from within her. Gratitude, she reasoned, that was not rational.  
  
And in her brooding, she did not see Aragorn's slight smile and Gimli's smirk, nor did she see Boromir's snort or Legolas' slight blush.  
  
After a while, Legolas spoke again. "Celeborn warned us not to go far into Fangorn," he said. "Do you know why, Aragorn? What are the fables that you Men have heard?"  
  
Boromir spoke out. "We have many tales in Gondor, and elsewhere as Aragorn might tell you, but for the words of Celeborn I should deem them only fables that Men have made as true knowledge fades."  
  
"I had thought of asking you the truth of the matter, and if an Elf of this very wood does not know, how shall a Man answer?" Aragorn  
  
There was a slight twinkle in Adariel's eye that faded soon to sadness, and she said, "We Elves all know about the Onodrim, that Men call Ents, dwelt there long ago. The Fangorn is old, even as the Elves would reckon it. The Onodrim are sung about in songs, and I know of their existence in the wood but have yet to meet one. They keep to their own, and are the great guardians to the trees. But that is all I know, for those that dwell in Lakewood seldom travel and none come by our gates."  
  
"Yes, it is old," said Aragorn, "as old as the forest by the Barrow-downs and it is far greater. Elrond says that the two are akin, the last strongholds of the mighty woods of the Eldar Days in which the Firstborn roamed while Men still slept. Yet Fangorn holds some secret of its own. What it is I do not know."  
  
"And I do not wish to know," said Gimli. "Let nothing that dwells in Fangorn be troubled on my account!"  
  
They now drew lots for the watches, and the lot for the first watch fell to Gimli. Adariel waited for sleep to claim them, and it was not long before it laid hold of the others. "Gimli!" said Aragorn drowsily. "Remember, it is perilous to cut bough or twig from a living tree in Fangorn. But do not stray far in search of dead wood. Let the fire die rather! Call me at need!"  
  
Gimli nodded and turned his back for a minute. Adariel crept over to where Aragorn lay. She could see sleep begin to take over him, and saw that his face had smoothed out. She whispered soothingly, almost in lullaby, "I will take a walk before the night claims me as its own. Shall I bring firewood?"  
  
Aragorn grumbled slightly and Adariel could make out "Do not stray far" and "Take no living twig…"  
  
She stood up and nodded to Gimli, who merely shrugged and sat down closer to the fire and gazed out aimlessly down the road that they had come from, his back turned to the forest. Satisfied, she motioned to Starliss, who came prodding lightly on gentle hooves. She trimmed the blackened grass slightly and there was a soft hiss as Adariel mounted and motioned her toward the forest.  
  
To Adariel's surprise, Starliss rolled her eyes in fear and refused to go forward, even when Adariel urged her by digging her knees into her soft, supple belly. The white mare shied back a little, nearly trampling Legolas who lay motionless, his hands folded upon his breast and his eyes unclosed. Adariel stiffened and waited for Starliss to settle down. She was sure that the vibrations on the ground would be enough to wake him up. But it appeared that it didn't.  
  
Adariel let out a sigh of relief, and gently dismounted. Starliss tossed her head in defiance and glared. Adariel didn't ask what the matter was, for the wind carried sound that elven ears would pick up easily. It looked like she would have to walk.  
  
And walk she did. Making sure that Gimli was sufficiently occupied, she told him that she would go to gather more firewood and watch the direction of the Fangorn for him, if he would be so kind as to watch the road. He agreed readily, muttering in a low voice about witches and mysterious forests. He sat hunched by the fire, running his thumb thoughtfully along the edge of his ax.  
  
She headed under the cover of darkness to the shadow of the outer trees of the Fangorn. "Ssssseeeeeth seoffffffthe thhhhhhessssss" she greeted the first tree cautiously. She knew that trees knew no masters, but in the Fangorn where there was great change, she could never be sure.  
  
"You left us a child, but come back as a woman," observed the tree and Adariel was startled to recognize that it was the first tree she had spoken to since she had left, asking it for directions to Rivendell and Mordor. Pines were not known for wisdom so Adariel was surprised by its comment, until she realized that it was an observation. She blushed.  
  
"We have not changed," said a second tree from her left as if sensing her thoughts. "We know no master except for Fangorn himself, and we remember you with kindness." Adariel smiled then, a soft smile that lifted the corners of her mouth slightly and seemed to bring a light out in her face although it was not yet a true smile. She touched her hand to the tree trunks respectfully, and filled the night with soft hisses.  
  
  
  
It was near the changing of the watch when she made her way back to the camp. The fire was burning low, and the old chestnut tree had leant further down and its leaves rubbed together, making scratching sounds with their dry flesh.  
  
She had spoken to the trees, who had welcomed her back with showers of leaves. But the news that they had brought with them was grim.  
  
There had been Orcs roaming near Lakewood after she left, they told her, and they grew bolder with each passing day. Sometimes they had ventured into Lakewood itself, although they were always chased away by the elves. But even that had stopped after a while, and still the Orcs advanced. These were Orcs from the Land of the Great Fire.  
  
Then one day Eltheran had met a small band himself, and the Orcs went away for a while, much to the trees' relief. But even they were deceived by Eltheran's manner: the Orcs came back a few nights after, and in greater numbers. They had marched boldly, their dark fingers making scratches on the bark of the trees. And they entered Lakewood, their black amour clanking amongst the purity of the Elderlings that guarded the entrance.  
  
Then the terrible cries of trees burning alive came from within and the smell of smoke twined itself high into the sky. There was a terrible fog of ash that lingered for many days, and a white horse had appeared one day at the edge of the Fangorn and entered, and had gotten lost in the dark smog. By the time the ash cleared it had gotten lost and confused, and then many Orcs had come through. But these Orcs were different from the ones that had taken Lakewood.  
  
And then came the Men on Horses who slew the Orcs and took with them the now blackened mare that had strayed in. The dark ash cloud was fading now, and when the Men left it had become nothing but a dull mist that covered the forest and wove itself as a blanket around the silent trees.  
  
The trees themselves could not see and relied on the voices that traveled to bring them tidings. But in the thick ash cloud there had been no sound, and when it had cleared it revealed to them a sight that they had not seen since Dwarves had roamed freely above the ground.  
  
Around Lakewood where the Elderlings had stood there was but black rings that reached outward. All was silent and there was death that stretched itself outside the gates. Where there had been life, there was now darkness. But not all news she had heard that night had been dreary, and she had been pleasantly surprised to hear of resistance in Lakewood itself, and wondered who was responsible and if there was any way to be in contact with them.  
  
They had also told of the hobbits who had stolen into the wood, and assured her that they had not been captured, as the cloud of ash had not completely cleared yet, and their steps were so light that the trees could not hear them through the haze.  
  
Now, as Adariel walked away from the dark shadow of the Fangorn, she was filled with dread at the path that she suspected that they would have to take through the forest. Something moved from the direction of the forest, and she froze, heart pounding. It was very dark in the shadow of the trees, and she could see the firelight in the distance, flickering. Gimli's back was turned to her.  
  
The slight rustle of grass came again, but then all was silent. Silent? Adariel listened but no sound came, and she suddenly felt reassured. There was no danger nearby, or the trees would have warned her. She turned, trying to place the sound to a memory.  
  
"The dark does not hide you," Adariel said, amused. She tilted her head attentively and waited.  
  
A soft whoosh from somewhere in front of her, and a shape emerged from a shadow. "Alas, I thought it did," the voice said dryly.  
  
Adariel shook her head and sighed. "Why were you following me? I thought you to be sleeping."  
  
"But you forget, Lady Adariel, I had once told you that I did not favor what Men call sleep." Legolas said, stepping into the light.  
  
Adariel grew exasperated. "Yet you do not answer the former of my question!"  
  
"In answer to that," Legolas smiled as he drew closer, "my reasons are my own." He used the words that Adariel had used when asked about her ability to talk to trees.  
  
"You are teasing me, Sir," Adariel frowned, her cheeks flushed with annoyance.  
  
"No!" Adariel was surprised to see that he was genuinely taken aback. "I spoke the truth."  
  
"So you will not tell me?" Adariel asked, trying to figure out if his reason was serious enough to affect her, so she was surprised to see a slight blush touch his face.  
  
"Some day I might, but for now, take the most obvious reason and make do with it."  
  
"The most obvious reason?…of course. You were following me to make sure I did nothing rash. Did Aragorn set you up to this?"  
  
"Nothing out of reason," Legolas corrected her smoothly. "And in a way, yes, I was. Aragorn had no say in the matter."  
  
"You will not tell me more?"  
  
"What does your heart tell you?"  
  
Adariel took that into serious consideration. There was a slight heat in her cheeks that she knew to be blush although she could not comprehend why it was there. The initial flood of fright at the first notion that she was being followed had worn off, but her heart was still beating at twice its normal rate. There was a mix of contentment, nervousness and adrenaline, none of which she should be feeling at all. In conclusion, Adariel noted, her heart was a mess.  
  
"If I knew what my heart was telling me, then I would not be asking you these questions!" Adariel said. She looked closely at him and saw that he was looking directly in her eyes. There was a flicker of something that resembled hope in his face, but then it disappeared as soon as it came.  
  
"Peace, Lady Adariel," he nodded politely. "It is late and there is great danger. You had come to speak to your friends in these woods. What tidings do they bring?"  
  
Adariel shook her head. She was glad for the subject to be diverted from herself, but he puzzled her and she felt curiosity stir within her again. She pushed it down ruthlessly and said, "Only tidings of evil and darkness, I fear." Something else was bothering her, but she couldn't figure out what. It was then she noticed the formality he used. "Do not use titles with me, I am not worthy of most of them," She added.  
  
"Then walk with me, Adariel, and tell me all that you have heard. Titles are of no use on me for I do not answer them. We are equals."  
  
She was touched by his gallantry, as he only knew that she was Elrond's daughter and thought of her as a Princess brought up as a noble and therefor carried only the inferior title of Lady. She agreed to his proposal and he offered his arm politely. She raised her eyebrow and looked around deliberately at their surroundings as if to say "there is no need, look where we are!" but he just looked at her.  
  
She took the arm and they headed off toward camp with Adariel talking in a low voice. None of them took notice of Gimli, sitting hunched by the fire, and when he sprang up suddenly, both were startled. Aragorn and Boromir both sat up at the sudden movement and stared. Legolas pulled Adariel with him and they both made their way swiftly to their companions.  
  
There stood an old bent man, leaning on a staff, and wrapped in a great cloak; his wide brimmed hat was pulled down over his eyes. He did not speak or make any signs.  
  
"Well, father, what can we do for you?" said Aragorn, leaping to his feet. "Come and be warm, if you are cold!" He strode forward, but the old man was gone. There was no trace of him to be found near at hand, though they searched. Adariel offered to go back to the edge of the Fangorn and look but Aragorn refused saying it was too dangerous for any of them to wander that far. For a second, Adariel felt guilt seeping out into her carefully smoothed expression.  
  
The moon had set and the night was very dark.  
  
Suddenly Legolas gave a cry from next to Adariel. "The horses! The horses!"  
  
The horses were gon0eo. They had dragged their pickets and disappeared. For some time the five companions stood still and silent, troubled by this new stroke of ill fortune. They were under the eaves of Fangorn, and endless miles lay between them and the Men of Rohan, their only friends in this wide and dangerous land. As they stood, it seemed to them that they heard, far off in the night, the sound of horses whinnying and neighing. Then all was quiet again, except for the cold rustle of the wind.  
  
"Well they are gone," said Aragorn at last. "We cannot find them or catch them; so that if they do not return of their own will, we must do without. We started on our feet and we have those still."  
  
"Feet!" said Gimli. "But we cannot eat them as well as walk on them." He threw some fuel on the fire and slumped down beside it.  
  
"Even if we did have horses, I would not allow you to eat them!" Adariel said sharply. "But that is not what bothers me most. My mare would not leave me without good reason and I fear for her."  
  
"If you wish to know what I think," Gimli began again, "I think it was Saruman. Who else? Remember the words of Eomer: he who walks about like an old man hooded and cloaked. Those were the very words. He has gone off with our horses, or scared them away and here we are. There is more trouble coming to us, mark my words!"  
  
"I mark them," said Aragorn. "But I marked also that this old man had a hat and not a hood. Still I do not doubt that you guess right and that we are in peril here. Yet in the meantime there is nothing we can do but rest, while we may. I will watch for a while now, Gimli. I have more need of though than of sleep."  
  
Adariel felt a soft nudge in her side. Legolas looked at her pointedly. "Oh!" she said aloud, remembering. "If it were Saruman who came to us tonight, then I have worse tidings still…" and she told them of all that had happened in Lakewood, leaving out nothing except maybe her source of information. But it didn't take long for Aragorn to guess.  
  
"Your news is valuable to us, but you strayed too far for my liking," He said sharply. "I swore to keep you safe and I shall."  
  
"You swore a vow to yourself, and I made no such promise!" Adariel shot back heatedly. "But my anger does not rule my reasoning. What do you make of what I have said?"  
  
"Our friends are deep in Fangorn, and we must save them from a fate worse than death," Aragorn replied. "But the new turn of events will complicate things." Then he turned his eyes to the fire, looking deep inside as if seeing visions that saddened him. "We can only wish for a distraction to occupy Lakewood, but as that is unlikely, we shall just have to be on our guard."  
  
"The eyes and ears of our kin are sharp," warned Legolas. Adariel said nothing. She was still pondering Aragorn's words, and a clumsy plan was formulating. But there was doubt in her heart and anguish. Questions ran through her head as if chased by Sauron himself but she raised her eyes to the faces of every one of her companions whom she had unwillingly grown so close to, and saw that her own doom lay upon her.  
  
"A distraction…" Adariel muttered. She agreed to take the last watch after Gimli and made a point to bid goodnight to everyone who sat around the fire, even Boromir. They were surprised, but not suspicious. When her watch came and she was roused roughly by a hand shaking her, she bade the chestnut tree to keep all who slept under its falling leaves safe, and was gone.  
  
In the morning, Gimli, Aragorn and Boromir awoke to a started cry from Legolas who had worry written in every graceful curve of his face, and his first words to them were simple and the determination behind them terrifying.  
  
"She's gone."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
1.1 End of Chapter 12  
  
Reviews please! NO FLAMES but constructive criticism is very welcome! –Spirit Star  
  
  
  
Sorry for the delay:( I have school starting again and I had to get all my stationary, etc. etc. etc.  
  
Anyway, thank you so much for the reviews! I'm trying to figure out how to balance school and writing which is not easy here in my house. I have extremely strict parents, I should add…lucky me. 


	13. Chapter 13: In which Change stirs the wa...

Disclaimer: "Old MacDonald had a disclaimer…E I E I O. And in that disclaimer he said lotsa stuff. E I E I O. With a 'don't sue' here and a 'don't sue' there…Old MacDonald had a disclaimer. E I E I O. P.S. I don't own any characters that are owned by Tolkien.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Echoes of the Narbeleth  
  
Spirit Star  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 13: In which Change stirs the water once more  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Aragorn swore. "She can't have gotten far on foot."  
  
"Why bother about Lady Adariel? We have weightier trouble upon us. What of our friends Masters Merry and Pippin? And our word to Eomer that we would return our borrowed horses? The witch was nothing but trouble from the start. I say we leave her to her own troubles." Gimli said.  
  
Everyone with the exception of Boromir glared at him. Legolas stepped forward, eyes narrowed. Gimli looked unabashed and crossed his arms over his ax. "Besides. What about the old man next to our fire last night? Have you forgotten already?"  
  
"What shall we do?" Boromir cut in impatiently. There was a thickening tension in the air and it seemed that someone would pounce on Gimli. Everybody looked toward Aragorn for a suggestion. Aragorn looked at Legolas.  
  
After a pause, Aragorn said, "We will continue on the trail of our Hobbit friends, and we shall see what we can find. Mayhap we shall meet up with both parties."  
  
There was a soft hiss that escaped from Legolas's lips. He felt like disagreeing with Aragorn, but when he looked in Aragorn's face he saw only sympathy and a determination to do things right. Who was he to argue with reason when he was without logic in his frustration?  
  
"We leave as soon as we hide our tracks," Aragorn announced. He felt a little guilty that he had not fulfilled his silent duty to Arwen to look after her younger sister. But he hardly thought Adariel needed looking after. The last time he had been in Lakewood, he had sensed something change in the air. He had been with other Rangers that time, and it was in the distant past.  
  
Now, Aragorn watched his elf friend move dejectedly to help with the cleaning up of the dark ashes that had been sparks from the fire and felt a slight surge of apathy. If Arwen had been lost, he would have been desolate and all hope would have failed him.  
  
Which was why, Aragorn thought to himself, he could not fail the mission. Merry and Pippin had to be found and brought with them. They would be needed in Minas Tirith, he knew it.  
  
  
  
  
  
Already, Adariel was beginning feel regret forming in her throat. It threatened to push its way out in the form of a frustrated scream. The forest was deathly silent. Where were the birds? Where was the rustling of the leaves? There was not even a slight breeze.  
  
There was anger in the air, she could feel it. Almost taste it, even. Here were trees that had seen much and felt the tongues of flame upon their branches and pass them by. There was a thin layer of black ash and a lingering smell of burnt wood.  
  
Wherever she went, Adariel felt the vegetation shy back from her. Once, she thought she heard a hollow voice say "You are not welcome here."  
  
Occasionally, she felt pinpricks in her hands and guessed that Boromir was cleaning up the still hot ashes of the fire with his bare hands. She didn't mind the pain. It kept her sane. She had the same suffocating feeling that the forest was closing in on her, their branches as their arms and their twigs as their fingers reaching out to throttle her or encage her once more.  
  
No matter how absurd that thought was, she could not shake it out of her head. After all, the trees were her friends. They were the ones who liberated her, not capture her. But she also knew that trees in their anger were quick to lash out, and since they were sightless, it did not matter much to them who they struck out at.  
  
Maybe this was what Celeborn had been thinking when he warned Aragorn about passing through Fangorn.  
  
Adariel followed the darkening ground. The ash was piling thicker and thicker, and the tension grew greater with every step she took. The smell of burnt wood grew stronger. Lakewood was drawing closer.  
  
Adariel had been amazed, horrified and disgusted all at once when she had first walked into the Fangorn. There was a slight layer of black ash on the floor. As scattering at first, but as she followed it deeper into the forest it grew deeper until she left footprints that sunk into the thick dust and left a mark imprinted in the black sand-like ash.  
  
It didn't take her long before she figured out that she was on the right path to Lakewood.  
  
When she had heard from the pine tree what Eltheran had done, or rather, what the Eltheran had allowed the orcs to do, she had been disgusted. Now, she was sickened. Adariel had taken her cloak off to avoid the unnecessary suspicion. A cloak from Lorien symbolized light. She was heading into darkness.  
  
There was an endless supply of trees as she walked steadily deeper into Fangorn. They grew in order according to rank. She had passed pine trees in the outer circle, then some chestnut trees. Now, she was walking amongst elms and beeches. A few more turns, and she should be amongst the rowans and willows who were not Elderlings.  
  
But as the elms became scattered, instead of finding rowans and willows dotted in the thinned gaps, she found the skeletons of burnt out trees. Adariel gasped out loud, her sudden intake of breath muffled in the thick silence. The charred remains of what had been towering rowans and willows were bent and broken. A lone leaf drifted off the end of a black branch and floated to the ground. It was strange to see the spot of brown amongst the thick layer of black on the ground.  
  
Where there was anger in the air, there was now death.  
  
She took a couple of steps forward, and was suddenly surrounded by a ring of elves dressed in the black that she normally saw on slain Orcs. Their bows were drawn, and they were made out of ashwood. The only wood hardy enough to grow on the outskirts of Mordor.  
  
"Daro. Halt. State your name and your cause and we will escort you into Morladris."  
  
Adariel tried not to look nervous. She had to come up with the perfect lie, and found it hard to speak up. She said the first thing that came to her mind. "Morladris?"  
  
"We, the combined council, have renamed Lakewood," replied the same monotone voice. "State your cause and your name and you will be escorted into Morladris," it repeated.  
  
"Is this how you address your princess?" Adariel assumed an air of cruelty and coldness.  
  
"We know no princess except one," the voice replied without emotion. "And she is gone from these woods."  
  
"Bow, you cowards," Adariel ordered, her eyes glittering with malice that was not altogether fake. "I have come back."  
  
The elf seemed to assess the situation before calling another to him and pointing at Adariel. "Take her to Eltheran and see if she is telling the truth. And disarm her."  
  
The other Elf nodded, drew his bow even tighter and motioned Adariel in front of him. She shuffled purposely with a venomous glare and held her head up. Another Elf tugged the quiver off her shoulder and snatched her bow from her hand. Adariel jerked it back at the last minute, causing the Elf to fall backwards as she let go of her bow. The other Elves looked at each other and wondered if this was truly the princess. Who had the courage, or the wits small enough to do such things in Morladris?  
  
Adarielf felt a sharp jab roughly in her back and felt the arrow tip graze her slightly. She stiffened, wondering if it were a poisoned arrow. A harsh laugh came behind her.  
  
"Don't try anything. Do not look back. Walk where I tell you to."  
  
"I will do no such thing," Adariel turned around, gathering her courage to her. She could be shot on the spot. She had to assume that they were ruthless. "I refuse to be treated like a prisoner in my own domain. YOU should be the one bowing to MY will. Be warned that Eltheran will hear of this."  
  
"Oh, he will," the dark-haired elf laughed again. "You will see him when he pushes you down the stairs into his dungeon." The elf drew his bow even tighter, and poked her again sharply in her back.  
  
"You should be ashamed, if not disgraced, to treat your kindred like this," Adariel said in annoyance as she was forced to walk in hurried steps through the trees. The dark-haired elf advanced with his arrow pointed at her back. If Adariel walked too slowly, the arrow point would pierce her and she would be lost.  
  
"I might have cared once," the elf said, his tone changing to regret. "But I have seen too much. I feel the change coming in me and I must join or suffer the torture of his calling. I was once called Eleduil, but now I am a wraith. I am in between."  
  
"In between?" Adariel sensed weakness. "In between what?"  
  
"In between the Change." Eleduil said, but his voice grew harsh and scratchy. "Move on! Do not bother me with your cunning tongue."  
  
They hurried on until Adariel fancied the day faded into night. Certainly, there was a great darkness about. She was looking upward for the moon when she realized that it was still day. She was in the shadow of a great fortress, dug deep into the ground. There were no trees. There were no Elderlings. There was only a tall black wall that cast a shadow on the ground, and an iron gate forged of bent armor.  
  
"Is this Morladris?" asked Adariel.  
  
"You claim to be princess, yet you do not know your own land. You are a liar, and Eltheran will see that." Eleduil said, arrow tip jabbing into her flesh so it bled. Adariel had slowed down. "Faster, Prisoner! Make haste to meet your doom!" he laughed. Adariel picked up her feet.  
  
The bent black gates were opened not by elves, but by Orcs standing guard there. Adariel's eyes widened. So Orcs were working with the elves? Never in her life had she felt so nauseated. The rotting stench came from within the helmets, and she could feel the hatred strike at her through the visors.  
  
She spat at them, but was struck hard in the back of the head by one. Hard enough to hurt her, but not so hard as to give her the relief of falling unconscious.  
  
The earthen stairway led downwards. Adariel's heart quivered as she saw her fellow elves dressed in black tunics or black gowns darting here and there, some talking seriously with Orcs and pointing to pieces of armor or weaponry in a critical manner. Others labored along with the rest.  
  
It was the laboring elves that caught her eye, and her gaze held the sight of them. They had blank, glazed over eyes and several scars that had not been treated. There was a resolute determination in their manner that had been beaten down to dejected silence and acceptance of their fate.  
  
But worse were their physical attributes. There were not Elves any longer, but creatures somewhere between Elves and Orcs. Their skin had turned pale gray and their backs were bent and stooped from work. Their hands were now thin and gnarled and their hair was drifting to the ground in clumps.  
  
Now she knew what Eleduil meant by change.  
  
Her gaze snapped away from the horror and bitter tears leaked out of her eyes. This was what she had seen in the Mirror. She would have driven her people to a fate so unimaginable yet so real that it hurt her to even think about it. She recognized it all now. The dark iron twined walls of earth, the color of the black ashen floors that were shod with clay.  
  
This was the place she had seen herself, eyes blazing an unearthly white, torturing Elves into the Change. Adariel felt a dread like she had never experienced before. Not even at the entrance of Moria. It was the dread that fear brought. And she was afraid…of herself.  
  
They had come upon the biggest building in Morladris, as it was now called, and the doors were thrown open by an Elf and an Orc. The exterior was made fully out of iron, which clanged when a spark from a nearby forger hit it. The doors were decorated with glittering night-gems that twined upward to read:  
  
  
  
The interior was bare. There were archways that led left and right, but straight from the entrance was a large metal door with the same markings as the exterior one. It was guarded by an Orc and an Elf, both carrying swords. Both were dressed in black with a red eye marked on their breast.  
  
They glared at her and then at Eleduil before allowing the doors to be flung open. Adariel found herself roughly pushed inside. The blackness that engulfed Adariel started her, and it took a while for her eyes to adjust to the room. It was bare, with only a glowing banner of the One Eye staring at her from the rooftop. At the front of the room was two one throne and beside it was a smaller, although extensively carved chair.  
  
The body on the throne stirred, but it was the haggard one on the chair that spoke.  
  
"Who is the Prisoner and what business do you have to bring it before the King?" it hissed with hatred dripping like honey from its strangely accented tongue.  
  
"She claims to be the Princess," Eleduil laughed uneasily. It was met with silence. Eleduil stopped laughing immediately and Adariel looked at him from the corner of her eye. He looked frightened.  
  
"Bring her forward," the voice from the throne commanded. Adariel didn't recognize the tone of voice. It was harsher and almost cracked with power, or madness. It was more likely madness.  
  
The shove caught her by surprise and she took a couple of steps forward after the initial force had faded. She now stood before the throne and the chair.  
  
"Kneel, filth!" hissed the voice from the chair.  
  
"No!" Adariel said clearly. She could not be submissive in these halls; she never had been as the Princess.  
  
"No?" The voice was outraged. "You shall be made to bow."  
  
Adariel squinted but could only make out the haggard outline of the shape in the chair, but there was a giveaway stench. It was an Orc. Even as Eleduil came forth with two other Elves that had heard the order, she felt outrage winding upward through her windpipe. Adariel felt the hands pressuring her spine and the sharp sword tip at the back of her knees.  
  
She struggled, thrashing aimlessly, but the sword tip was cutting the backs of her knees and she felt it was coming dangerously close to her vein. She collapsed suddenly, bringing the three Elves down with her. They clattered on the polished metal floor.  
  
Adariel immediately stood back up again. "Curses be rained on your kind forever, Orc."  
  
"Kill her!" the Orc screamed. He was cut off as a flash of silver severed his head. It rolled onto the floor at Adariel's feet. There was an expression of surprise on it, and spittle mingled with blood on the floor. Its eyes were a sickening yellowish color and had red lines streaked all across its eyeballs. Its teeth were yellow, rotting and its tongue was covered with a layer of green. Adariel kicked it away and looked up at the figure on the throne sheathing his sword.  
  
"They are rather stupid," Eltheran explained without bothering to wipe the dark blood off his blade before he slid it back in its scabbard. "He's the fourth one to meet his fate here, yet still more are willing to take his place."  
  
Adariel said nothing, just stared at Eltheran in grim silence as he stood abruptly and descended toward her. He stopped directly in front of her and cupped a hand around her face. Adariel flinched.  
  
"Just like how I remembered you…" Eltheran muttered absently. Adariel almost let out a sigh of relief. She had been afraid that Eltheran might have been so far corrupted that he might not have recognized her. "…but different somehow," Eltheran finished.  
  
Adariel tensed slightly with Eltheran's hand still cupped around her cheek. There was a silence.  
  
"But that is something we will discuss later," Eltheran said, his eyes narrowing slightly at the almost relieved look that Adariel sported. "You must get changed and tell me all about your adventures at the feast in your honor tonight." To Eleduil, he said, "You are now a Worker for your disgraceful misconduct of the Princess. Go before I throw you in a dungeon."  
  
Eleduil looked horrified as he backed out of the room.  
  
"Wait!" Adariel said hastily. "He amuses me, Father. Let him be my servant."  
  
"Very well, Adariel," Eltheran said without pausing to consider, as if Eleduil were just some tool that was easily dismissed of. He motioned for Eleduil to leave and the look that Eleduil gave Adariel as he backed hastily out of the room was one of hatred and bewilderment.  
  
"Anything that pleases you to have is yours," Eltheran said, gesturing her to walk with him.  
  
"Thank you, Father. It's good to be home," Adariel said 'home' trying to sound convincing. She hoped Eltheran hadn't noticed the slight note of apprehension in her voice as he led her out of the throne room and also out of the metal building.  
  
The smell of blood and sweat hit Adariel like a wave and she shook her head to clear it. "You'll get used to it," Eltheran explained happily. "There has been so much that has happened since you were kidnapped."  
  
"Kidnapped?" said Adariel sharply. "Did you not get my note?"  
  
"Oh, of course. The servants searched everywhere for a sign. But of course it was a note that the kidnappers made you write. They were trying to take you away from me. Besides, you would never leave here voluntarily. Lakewood was great, and now, as Morladris, it is perfect," Eltheran said, menace stripping his voice raw.  
  
'They' must mean the people from Rivendell! Adariel felt her surprise turn into anger. So he had kept the visits secret and hoarded her like a trophy? And how dare he say she would never have left voluntarily. Adariel felt a slight dent in her pride. She struggled to maintain her mask of unconcerned interest and listened to Eltheran continue. He had somehow forgotten that she was walking right beside him.  
  
"You were mine, right from the start. I saw you in your cradle of rowan wood under the willow tree. I knew you did not belong. A gift from the Valar, if you will. I took you from that cursed cradle of rowan and took you as my own. They did not understand. They wanted you for themselves."  
  
Adariel nodded slowly, afraid that if she spoke he would recollect himself and stop talking.  
  
"And your name was so perfect. Fate had made them name you Adariel…Father's daughter. You were meant to be my likeness, you know."  
  
"Yet I was not yours," Adariel said quietly.  
  
"That matters not," Eltheran said. "What matters is that you were *fated* to be mine."  
  
Adariel drew in a breath as big as she dared. The smell of blood was unbearable. 'Eltheran is insane,' Adariel thought to herself as she surveyed her surroundings grimly. Eltheran walked tall through the hammering around the clumps of dirt and mud. Adariel could see the remnants of roots in the soil. They were literally in a wide valley-like ditch.  
  
"I kept your old room, you know," Eltheran said to Adariel. "I had it shifted down near my quarters down here in Morladris. Everything is exactly the same, but I daresay you will want to make some adjustments. Your adventure would have changed you, I am sure."  
  
"More than you will ever know," Adariel answered cryptically.  
  
"Yes, yes," Eltheran answered impatiently, sweeping his hands across the view. "For all our change, we have kept the lake. I knew you loved the lake so I had them leave it untouched. You must come for a walk with me and tell me your tale. How did you escape from your kidnappers? Where did you learn? What news from travelers?"  
  
"Must I, Father? I am weary from the road."  
  
"Humor me, then," Eltheran answered. He led Adariel to a small tunnel opening that seemed to spiral upwards. There were lit torches on the inside of the tunnel and Adariel could feel a slight breeze from the other end. They were heading up.  
  
When they emerged from the tunnel, Adariel found herself coming out of an opening in the large hill by the lake. She had always loved the lake because there were many trees there. And she had loved watching the moonlight on the water and the leaves float and disturb the glossy shine at night.  
  
Eltheran was right. It remained unchanged. Even the trees had not been disturbed, although a tense anger radiated from them. The lake was still calm and the grass was still green, although it had taken up a slightly yellowish tinge. Adariel imagined it would be from the poisons that had seeped into the ground below.  
  
Eltheran leaned on a tree and the tree groaned loudly and angrily. Adariel chose to stand where she was. They were out of view and the only way to the lake was through the tunnel. Adariel knew that there would be guards now at the tunnel opening underneath. She had seen the signal that Eltheran had given them as he walked past.  
  
Now, she stood contemplating. There was no possible escape and she was unarmed if anything happened. Suddenly, she was feeling very vulnerable.  
  
"Well," Eltheran exclaimed, overlooking her silence. "Tell me all that you have seen!"  
  
"But Father, of course you have some tales of your own!" Adariel said quickly to fill in the time she needed to come up with a convincing story to replace the truth.  
  
"Ah, yes," Eltheran said. Adariel was disgusted to hear his voice had a speck of pride in it. "Of course you understand that when you left, we were all in an uproar."  
  
His eyes twinkled for a moment. There was a pause as he cleared his throat and continued, "You were always like that, causing some kind of chaos wherever you went. But a maid found your note and I read it. The kidnappers were smart, getting you to use your own hand to write it. But I knew that you were my daughter, and you could outwit them. I did not send you help, but instead concentrated on your homecoming."  
  
"I see," Adariel said coldly. "So I was unarmed and untrained in combat and you did not think I would have been in any danger."  
  
She was extremely surprised when she heard Eltheran laugh. "Adariel!" he cried. "So innocent in the ways of the world. How I wish I could keep you like this forever! But alas, you will change when you take over my crown. You will taste power and adore it. But for your rather naïve statement I answer: I knew you were practicing the bow in your room. Do you not think I count the weapons at the end of each day?"  
  
"Oh," was all Adariel could answer.  
  
Eltheran laughed again. "Do not be ashamed for your ways and lay the blame instead on me. I was so eager to shield you from the harshness of the world. It would seem that I was a little too indulgent in my ways."  
  
Adariel's anger flared up again. "Then I certainly will blame everything on you, Father," She snapped.  
  
"Then I take your blame whole heartedly, and thank you," Eltheran said. "But to continue with my tale that you have been so eager to hear of. Yes, I planned to make Lakewood great for you. We were weak, and we needed to be strong. Several weeks after you left a messenger from far Lorien came to me asking me to the Golden Wood. Of course I refused."  
  
"But why?" Adariel asked, frowning a little. Things were starting to make sense now, but not entirely. There were some things that did not fit into place.  
  
"Why, you ask me?" Eltheran said with amusement tingling in his voice. "You are too young to understand, and until you come one day into the shadows of the trees of Lorien I will keep this secret to myself."  
  
Adariel ached to say that she had infact been to Lorien herself, but stopped short. She remembered the words of fair Galadriel of the Light and her cryptic message about the darkness in Lakewood (now Morladris) and she said nothing and filed the conversation away into her mind for further examination.  
  
"How came the Orcs to our city?" Adariel asked.  
  
"Such a simple question, Adariel. I would have thought you shrewd enough to answer it yourself."  
  
"Humor me with the truth. I'd rather that than anything in the world," Adariel said pensively. Eltheran appeared not to notice the double meaning in her sentence.  
  
"Your wish," Eltheran said, "is granted. We found an Orc in our territory but I ordered it captured and brought to me. It told me of many things, Adariel. Of the might of our lord Sauron of the One Eye and the Great Army. We cannot defend against Isengard much longer. We are but a small population too close to the lands of Men. What could I do? I knew that you would be coming back soon and I did not wish you captured."  
  
"So you joined the forces of Sauron?"  
  
"What else could I have done? You must understand that there is no Good or Evil. There is only power. And power is all that matters. If I had not, then you would be in the hands of that foul Saruman now."  
  
"I understand everything," Adariel said slowly. "But must you have burnt all the trees?"  
  
Eltheran's eyes became glazed. Adariel had seen the look before on some of the other elves and she took a step back. It frightened her, that look. She knew by some instinct what would happen next. Eltheran's voice went flat. "The trees must be burnt. They hinder the process of the rise to power,"  
  
"Surely you don't mean that?" Adariel gasped. She had suspected that the Elves burnt the trees by force, but now it seemed that they did it freely. She suddenly saw images of charred wood and blackened leaves in a heap and a great fire spreading, and she drew deep breaths to calm herself.  
  
"I do," came the reply in the same tone of voice. Then Eltheran changed as if he had just woken from a long daydream. "But you must tell me of yourself now. It has been a while and we must get back for the feast soon."  
  
There was an expectant silence. "I was taken," Adariel said dramatically, "by Elves from Rivendell after they'd lured me out of Lakewood."  
  
"I knew it!" Eltheran roared, "I knew it was so. Rivendell, Imladris, you say?"  
  
"Yes, but I managed to slip away. And I ended up utterly lost on my way. I headed south and wandered for a few days before I found myself in Rohan in the company of many horsemen. They did not know me and captured me, but again I managed to slip away before I came to the edge of the Fangorn."  
  
Adariel hoped that Eltheran would not notice how vague the description was but she knew it would be a false hope. Eltheran was extremely cunning in his own way and she did not doubt he would pick up the difference. And he did.  
  
"You do not speak in detail," Eltheran said, studying her. "Could it be that you do not remember? Or mayhap the memories are too sharp to describe? Or you are hiding something from me?"  
  
"I think," Adariel announced, opening her mouth in a graceful yawning gesture and pronouncing her words with unconscious clarity, "that I am just tired from my wary days of wandering."  
  
"So you are, Daughter, so you are," Eltheran said, but then drifted into silent musing. Adariel's eyes widened slightly with panic.  
  
"We should go back now, for the night is cold and the wind is icy on the eve of my return," she said carefully, trying to sound indifferent to his mood. The King looked up with a sly, catlike stare that faded into a warm smile.  
  
"Oh, how ignorant of me. Please accept my apology as you had left me on my own for quite some time and I had but forgotten how to treat company," he shook his head and held out his hand, which Adariel took slowly. "Let us go back, for I had almost forgotten the preparations for the feast to be held to-night!"  
  
Down the smooth, winding tunnel they stepped with footsteps light and thoughts heavy. Past the lines of working Elves and Orcs and half-Elves and half-Orcs they trod with Adariel looking at the murky ground at her feet and Eltheran's head up, surveying the workers. Once in a while he would find something that displeased him and would spring forth with Adariel's hand still grasped in his and command the guards to take some people away.  
  
The earth had become stained brown and rusty with specks of black forming a slight dust over the top. The elves left faint footsteps while the Orcs left heavy dents in the soft ash. The heat from the melding nearby was bringing out a slight flush in Adariel's cheeks and the stench of the Orcs was making her nauseous.  
  
They parted outside the doors of the great iron cast hall with its wide doors clanging slightly in the heat and its inhabitants standing to attention just outside the gate. Eltheran gave a fluid sweep of his hand and a maid scurried hurriedly to Adariel's side.  
  
"Take Adariel to be robed in her room. 'tis the door that has been barred until now, and I would wish it of you to fling open the doors and allow some light into the room," he murmured to the maid. She danced a little on her bare feet on the heated ground that was tinged a rusty blood red and bent her head low to Adariel.  
  
Adariel thought she looked familiar, but couldn't place her. There was a gentle shove at her back and she found the King bowing his head politely and saying, "I will meet you at the Hall in one fourths turn of an hour and you shall sit merrily by my side."  
  
Adariel only nodded before following the maid inside the dark receiving chamber of the great iron building. Her last glimpse of Eltheran was his retreating back as he strode swiftly down to the Orc forces gathered in a corner. They were armed and some sat on dark horses that pranced in distemper.  
  
The iron doors clanged shut. Eltheran had not looked back.  
  
  
  
Gimli thought that everybody was especially gloomy that night as they trod heavily on the blackened leaves in the forest of the Fangorn. The trees bent down towards them with their dangerous looking twines reached out for their necks. Gimli rubbed his collar nervously.  
  
There was no song in the branches and sunlight reflected vainly off the slight dusting of ash. All day they had walked upon heavy feet, well, maybe everybody except Gimli. There was no remorse in his heart, although he did not deny that he had an uneasy feeling about the robed stranger they had met the night before.  
  
Under his breath, Gimli muttered dark words to himself. The only one within hearing distance was the Elf, and Gimli thought that he looked unusually brooding in the speckled shadows of the leaves. Boromir's face expressed nothing but sober indifference and Aragorn had shed none of the worried lines on his face. Gimli shook his head and gripped his ax with more vigor.  
  
The leaves crunched under his boots and he tried to think of the fair lady of Lorien, and of her hair and her wise eyes shining in the glinting golden mist. Not a thing was more precious to his people than gold and jewels and Lorien had more than he ever wanted or needed. But it was not the glittering studs that caught Gimli son of Gloin's eye but the fair lady who stood smiling surrounded by it all.  
  
A slight heaviness eased off Gimli's face and he felt himself brightening, even in the dreary light and the choking air.  
  
  
  
Boromir looked down at the dwarf and then back to the back of Aragorn's head. He thought it so ironic that he, Boromir the proud, had given in to temptation first and almost eagerly. Such was the extent of his pride. Now his heart had been stripped of it and he felt sympathy replace it.  
  
Boromir had never really been brought up on sympathy.  
  
Now, as he followed Gimli with his footsteps grinding down on the dark soot, Boromir felt a wave of slight sympathy toward them all. How hard the journey must be for them, with their feet never having touched the first steps to the Land of the Dead.  
  
He never felt tired now, and the road had seemed to him like nothing compared to the one step that his foot had set itself upon on the path to the Dead. The forest held nothing against him, and nor did the shadows the trees cast. It would have seemed sinister to him once, but now he felt nothing but indifference toward the images leaping up endlessly before his eyes.  
  
"Mortals upon mortal roads weary quickly and mortals on immortal ones even more so," he muttered to himself under his breath.  
  
Nobody heard him except the Elf, but Boromir didn't really think that Legolas was listening. There was a difference between hearing and listening. Casting his eyes toward the forest bed, Boromir picked his way carefully across the uneven ground. Some places the layer of leaves was thicker and deeper than others. In front of him, he could sense the rhythm in the others' steps change every so often when there was a rough patch.  
  
Boromir noted that Legolas who had seemed unaffected by the changes in the forest floor in Lorien was stumbling every so often like his mortal companions. He suppressed an exasperated sigh and thought about Adariel. 'Alas, poor Legolas,' Boromir thought to himself. 'Though I know not what madness the power of love drives into Elves, I have seen it in the faces of Men, and…maybe even in the eyes of Dwarves.'  
  
Boromir glanced at Gimli's face again with a reluctant amused glint in his usually dull eyes.  
  
  
  
The four travelers followed the light trail of the Hobbits. It would disappear every now and then and fade into the crackled dry drift of leaves at their feet but they followed near the trail of the bank of the Entwash. The mood was different from that of when they set across the green plains. It was more sober, and slightly heavier in way of spirit.  
  
They came after a while to the steep end of Treebeard's Hill and looked up at the rock wall and its rough steps that lead up to a high shelf. It was gray and far away from the dark source of the ashes scattered previously along the ground. It was gray with no sign of the black specks on its surface. Gleams of sun were striking the clouds that scurried across the sky. Suddenly, the forest looked lighter and less foreboding.  
  
"Oh!" said Legolas. "I feel my breath short and I should like to taste a freer air for a while. The forest holds no laughter and song, but perhaps the view from the hill shall ease my troubles if only for but a while."  
  
It was the longest sentence he had remarked that day. The companions climbed up the rough hill with Aragorn last, looking for marks on the steps and ledges.  
  
They did not notice the softest of rustles in the thickening trees behind them.  
  
The shelf faced southward and eastward but the southward view was closed and narrow. Aragorn was bent low toward the ground and his eyes searched the undisturbed ground. The dust had resettled itself in swirling circlets after the dry wind had shifted.  
  
Legolas was caught up in his own thoughts of far away places and people that perhaps were not so distant. How long ago had he admitted to himself that he had loved the haughty creature that had journeyed demurely for most of their way? A year or a week ago…yet it seemed longer.  
  
Although Adariel rarely displayed any emotion in the gray-blue windows of her eyes, he could not stop himself from gazing into them when she was preoccupied. Which, he noted, was often when they had entered Rohan. Whither was she now? Trapped in a cage wrought of orcish iron with sweet red blood drifting down her pale cheeks?  
  
Legolas drew a deep breath and told looked about himself with deliberate slowness in an effort to calm his thoughts. Aragorn was still bent low to the ground, checking here and there for signs of the Hobbits. Boromir was looking with amusement at Gimli, whose eyes had glazed over with a liquid sheen and whose lips were muttering softly underneath his beard.  
  
Legolas could guess who Gimli was thinking about. He had never seen one being, let alone a dwarf, admire one thing some much. Not that Galadriel was not admirable. Celeborn loved her dearly, the proud lady she had been and the wise one she was now. He shook his head so his hair shifted slightly. Gimli was doomed to admiration from a distance, and how Legolas pitied him!  
  
But then again, Legolas admitted to himself, Gimli's situation seemed impossibly like his own.  
  
The eerie silence continued with Aragorn's soft footsteps disturbing the unshattered calm. But there was a change in the air, and where the mood had been restful, it was suddenly tense. Legolas could feel it in the trees, a confused mixture of anger and relief.  
  
He stood up and drew out his bow. The sudden movement brought Gimli to his feet and he gripped his ax with vigor. Boromir unsheathed his sword and Aragorn straightened and swiftly snatched an arrow out of his quiver. Nothing moved, then a flash caught their eyes.  
  
The flash of color that did not belong in the dark forest with the evergreen leaves now dried and soiled. It was a flash of white. It moved suddenly from view, then back again and stood quite still.  
  
At that very moment, there was a whoosh from the surrounding treetops that sounded more like the groan of forced labor. The sharpness of gray, flashing points aimed themselves down at the four. Soft thumps jerked the leaves out of place as soft feet landed on the forest floors behind them.  
  
They all looked up in different directions and saw that they were surrounded by Elves clad in dark clothing. One stepped forward on a dappled gray horse that pranced haughtily before them.  
  
"Well, well…what gift does the forest give up today?" said the one on the horse, sinister amusement glittering in his eyes. They narrowed, as he made a swift motion with his arm, "Take them back with us. This is a gift for the Princess."  
  
There was nothing they could do: the elves were too well armed. Rough rope tightened around their wrists as they were bound and stripped of their weapons. Legolas turned his head back to the suspicious white figure behind him, and saw that it had gone.  
  
The blindfold came over his eyes, and all was dark. Dark as the blackest of nights, as surely this one was.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
1.1 End of Chapter 13  
  
Reviews please! NO FLAMES but constructive criticism is very welcome! –Spirit Star  
  
  
  
Author's Note: Adariel really does me Father's daughter/maiden/fill your own word for female  
  
Morladris is a mixture of Mor (darkness) and imlad (valley)  
  
For the person that asked, I have a sindarin dictionary on my computer and for the other person that asked, yes, I have been to China; I was born there!  
  
Phew, finally back on a computer that I saved work on! Geez, you should see my inbox! Over 100 messages and heaps of junkmail not included. If you sent me a message, please don't be too offended if I don't reply immediately.  
  
Pllleeeeaaaase forgive me for not updating for such a LONG time…:'(  
  
I'm going to sleep now so goodnight…it's about 10 o'clock and my teachers are going to KILL me. I've been such a ditz today coz I went to sleep at around midnight yesterday. You should have seen me at school. Don't go there, PLEASE. It was the time Ross and Rachel got married accidentally in Vegas.  
  
P.S. No, I did NOT actually get married…I'm not that out of it yet.  
  
P.P.S. I'm going on camp tomorrow and you know how camps are when the Physical Education Department runs them. The torture! The torture! 


	14. Chapter 14: In which gifts are deceiving

Disclaimer: "I don't own anything that Tolkien hasn't already bagged for himself and his imagination!"  
  
  
  
  
  
Echoes of the Narbeleth  
  
Spirit Star  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 14: In which gifts are deceiving  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Will my father be here soon?" Adariel asked the maid as she was dressed in a fine dress of dark, almost black, blue. The maid pushed her this way and that to get a better fitting on her sleeves.  
  
"Well, will he?" Adariel snapped impatiently. The maid had not said a word since she had arrived and Adariel was starting to think her mute.  
  
The maid whispered something, her fine brown eyes quivering with sudden fear and apprehension as if she had suddenly remembered what position she was in. Her lips murmured something that failed to reach Adariel's ears, and cast her eyes down toward her work in a display of humbleness.  
  
Adariel decided to soften her approach.  
  
"I'm sorry," Adariel said gently to the maid through her growing frustration. "I am very tired. Please. Will my father be here soon?"  
  
The maid was either lulled by the changed tone of her mistress, or thought that her display of humbleness was a weak cover, but her reply this time was audible if not nearly shouted. "He will be back soon, as he is on a hunt right now."  
  
"Oh," Adariel said, recovering from the sudden loudness from the timid maid. "But there is nothing to hunt in this dark wood!"  
  
There was silence once again, in answer to her question. Adariel glared sharply at the maid, who was backing out of the room. The dress was complete about her, and Adariel felt a heavy circlet touching her forehead. It was cool and smooth like a halo of silver. But it burnt into her skin like blue flame.  
  
The room was brighter than Adariel had expected, and the layout was much like her old one. Except the view from the window, of course. There were no familiar leaves hanging outside the open window, and instead, the smell of acid and melting metal met her. There was muffled noise from below, high up as she was.  
  
Her black-blue dress hugged her figure in a way that made her uncomfortable. It was as if she was to be shown off, and it was a feeling that she didn't like. At least there was a hood to hide her face with. She was given that luxury at least. The sleeves were purposefully torn in graceful patterns by hand, and so was the hem that flowed in generous bunches on the hard floor.  
  
She was barefooted under the layers of soft, velvet lace. This alone, gave her some comfort, some reminder of freedom that was never truly hers. She had merely been going around in circles.  
  
From her place directly in front of the window, she could see almost nothing, despite the light from the setting sun. The deep, dug valley below was covered in a fog of clay-brown dust that had unsettled itself. It was almost impossible to see into it. Here and there, hazy shapes at higher altitudes could be made out vaguely moving at great speed.  
  
Stepping down from the fitting stool she was still standing upon, Adariel hitched up the hem of her dress and walked with growing unease down out of her chamber and along the empty hallway. There was a place where she could look down several floors to different parts of the unfamiliar building, and she paused there.  
  
Directly down, gazing several floors below her, Adariel could see the great table set out in the middle of the hall that she had known was the throne room. On the table were many covered dishes and plates wrought of dark metals. She vaguely wondered where the beautiful carved yew-wood plates had gone, and quickly cleared the sudden harsh image of a burning flame that ignited in her mind's eye.  
  
Her head hidden inside the fine, elaborately fashioned black-blue dress hood, she made her feet glide over the cold floors, touching it as little as possible. The hem of her dress swished annoyingly behind her, suddenly loud in the echoing silence. There was no living creature in sight, and Adariel wondered where all the maids were. Usually, there was one tagging right behind her.  
  
The room next to hers was empty, but peering into chamber after chamber, Adariel could not make out anything except for books and shelves full of dresses and gowns that seemed to be of her size. There was a room with a loom and also one with thread of all colors spread out neatly on the floor and a needle and embroidery frame in the middle.  
  
One room had bells that jangled harshly and a pipe that made distorted sounds when blown upon. There was a room where images of the glory of the battlefields were imprinted firmly on the walls, each with the One Eye staring straight at Adariel. She walked out rather quickly.  
  
After several chambers of nameless items that Adariel had probably come in contact with at least once in her life, she concluded that the whole floor was reserved for herself and nobody else. Maids and servants included. It was no longer a great surprise that there seemed nobody else in the hallway. She was the only one permitted on the floor.  
  
The stairway curved jaggedly and casually downward. It was steep, and had no elegance in presentation. The silver metal gleamed in unnatural stupor. As her feet hit each one, there rang out no sound. The staircase descended evenly, if not sparingly, down the several floors. Adariel explored each one, ignoring its inhabitants.  
  
They seemed not to notice her as she walked slowly and silently past them. Nobody spoke, except on necessity. A general dislike and distrust hung in the air. Her finery was hidden in the dreary light and the dark worn colors of the cloth of her dress. She melted into the gloom like a restless spirit melted into shadow.  
  
She noticed the difference between all the other floors and her own immediately. All the other floors, with the exception of the bottom landing, had marble and not metal floors. When her feet padded softly on the smooth, cold and forgiving marble as she got off the last step toward the floor below hers, she noticed the change immediately.  
  
Eltheran was cunning indeed: he had fitted metal floors to alert the guards if ever she tried to escape again. The armory was the floor below hers, where all the guards were situated.  
  
There were many elves and orcs wearing full battle gear there, each glaring silently at the other. Adariel felt open curiosity follow her footsteps whenever she entered a chamber. The unwavering stare of the inhabitants of the room gazed after her whenever she departed or entered, then relaxed again.  
  
There were many swords, shields and various other weapons hanging on the walls of the rooms painted a rusty copper. These were the storage rooms of ruthless devices of torture or pain and they hung discriminatingly on the roughly made hooks along the walls. Adariel backed out of these rooms immediately, her eyes down cast and her imagination flowing.  
  
It was when Adariel was in what looked like a large briefing hall on the armory floor that there was a loud noise that came from someplace straight down below her feet. The sound of slow, but steady and heavy footsteps. It seemed, a great host of people had returned and with them, her father as heralded by the loud sound of shouts and the scurry of movement.  
  
Her suspicions were confirmed sudden arrival of dozen or more elves that walked into the briefing hall with charred leaves in their hair, freshly stolen off unsuspecting trees. Their manner was stern and their eyes were shielded and a strange cloudiness swirled about in their permanently widened pupils.  
  
The first bowed low, and without looking up, said "Princess, the King wishes an audience with you immediately in the throne chamber. I am to escort you."  
  
Adariel felt slightly surprised at the urgency of the request, thinking of no reason that Eltheran might want to speak to her before dinner. Her silence was taken as consent, and a slender hand reached out and tugged stiffly at her wrist. Adariel righted her balance and followed at the pace that the intruding elf had set.  
  
The swift strides down the round staircase past different floors made Adariel slightly dizzy, if not apprehensive. The floors flew by in flashes of gray and marble and as her foot rounded the last step, the momentum sent her forward a couple of more paces in front of the elf that had led her. He had stopped, and stood quite still as if waiting.  
  
Adariel saw that they were outside the large iron doors of the throne room.  
  
The elf and the orc that guarded the chamber threw open the doors in a failed attempt at unison (the orc was slower, and more sluggish). The heavy doors swung open with a soundless strain and were held on the other side by two other guards on the inside. The elf next to Adariel bowed low and, with a discreet shove sent Adariel into the dark room.  
  
No sooner than when the iron doors shut themselves again did Adariel hear a cheerful shout from the front of the room. "I see that you have my message! How marvelous of Areand to find you so swiftly." Eltheran called as he descended from the raised throne. The small stool beside him sat another hunched orc, eyes shining in the darkness and pupils dilated.  
  
Eltheran saw Adariel gazing at the creature and casually swept a hand across to the foul thing, "Ah, yes, this is Urogkuul. You see, I was correct in saying that there is always one of them foolish enough to sit upon that stool and await certain death."  
  
Urogkuul spat and hissed quietly at the comment, but said nothing.  
  
"You wanted private audience?" Adariel reminded him.  
  
"Of course," he replied swiftly but made no motion of explaining the reason.  
  
"Father!" Adariel exclaimed, trying to break the silence. "How you tease me! I am not at all patient in matters such as these, and your messenger had caught me by surprise. Do not torture me now, as I shall not let you forget it any time soon…take care, Sir!"  
  
Dark, moody laughter filled the chamber and echoed in the created darkness. Adariel felt surprised, as she had not found her exclamation in any way humorous at all. Eltheran motioned Urogkuul and the inner guards to leave.  
  
"Excuse me!" Adariel said indignantly as the laughter receded and the last guard had left silently. "I was perfectly serious, I assure you."  
  
"Indeed!" gasped Eltheran when the last of the echoing had disappeared. "Please find my humble apologies…and now for our conversation to reach the point, I shall be quite frank. We are to have a special feast in honor of your return (if Eltheran noticed Adariel's shudder here, then he did not show it) and as the guest of honor I must caution you to dress formally. I see you have already picked out a suitable gown, and I commend you for the good choice. It is perfect for the occasion tonight."  
  
"Oh…" Adariel managed to say, somewhat surprised by the seemingly pointless conversation and hardly deeming it important enough for a private audience. "Is that all? May I take my leave now? I have much to do."  
  
"Yes, go!" Eltheran said, suddenly impatient. "And mind you do not soil your gown before tonight. Now walk away from here and stray. I have some important business to attend to."  
  
"As you wish," Adariel said as she bowed herself out of the chamber.  
  
It only occurred to her as she entered her own chamber again on the topmost floor how odd it was for Eltheran to request that she avoid a certain part of the dwelling. Usually, he confided matters of the state in her as he thought her wise enough and experienced enough for her years to handle things. It was what she had been trained to do, as successor to her father.  
  
'I wonder,' Adariel pondered as she started to turn back to the staircase, 'what is happening that is so important that I am to be excluded. Does he suspect?'  
  
She had intended to head back discreetly down the stairs and explore a way to the throne chamber, but as her first footstep landed with a soft patter on the hard metal, she felt a flurry of activity rise. There was unseen movement below her floor and it was not a second later that an alarmed handmaiden appeared suddenly bowed on the ground in front of her.  
  
Adariel gasped in surprise at the sudden appearance of three more.  
  
"Forgive me, Lady!" gasped the first when she had recovered her breath. "We had forgotten…we were to make some – " She paused and frowned. "Some…"  
  
"Some alterations to your gown!" the second said sincerely. The others nodded their heads once in agreement.  
  
"Really," Adariel said dryly as she was pushed and pulled into the room and made to stand upon the dreaded stool.  
  
"Be still!" cried the first handmaid, a delicate antique silver ribbon fluttering as she spoke. "You will ruin such a beautiful dress!"  
  
And though Adariel's protests turned into orders, and orders into threats, they would not be swayed in their united effort to 'make adjustments to her gown'. They added ribbons and embroidered simple but intricate patterns to the hem. They made changes to her sleeves and did and redid her hair.  
  
Adariel was not fooled, but bore it with noble indifference. All the while, she simpered with intense but cautious curiosity. It was certain in her mind that these maids had been set up to distract her or to delay her. Eltheran had anticipated her movement; he knew her too well.  
  
Only by the sound of the echoing bell that called them all to dine did the handmaidens leave her, claiming that their work was complete. The flattery that followed found deaf ears. Adariel would not hear them. Her hood was thrown up to cover her eyes, and she examined herself one last time.  
  
The shredded style of the gown did her figure justice. It flowed in all the right places and revealed and covered the delicate shades of her smooth, creamy complexion. The four handmaids positioned themselves in the four corners surrounding her person and Adariel was captured in the momentum of the practiced walk that descended the great stairs that lead in another direction to the dining hall.  
  
A curtain had been thrown over the large archway and Adariel impatiently waited in the relatively small sitting room that was joined to the hall. It was barely enough to fit them all, and was crudely made as if built as an afterthought. There was only one soft cushioned seat in the room directly facing the curtains on an accented stand.  
  
The handmaidens were whispering softly to each other, and the thick curtains muffled the sounds from the hall. Then, suddenly, a great light sprung into the room and Adariel found herself facing a room full of expectant faces both foul and fair. She herself was on a raised platform that had a smooth ramp-like descent. The curtains had fallen gracefully to the sides of the archway and the handmaidens started to move forward.  
  
Adariel thought it extremely lucky that her hood was up so that the staring figures could not see her look of utter loathing tinged with unease. She was not used to such a measure of company.  
  
The place to the left of Eltheran at the high table was empty, and as Adariel drew close to it, she saw a red cushion positioned artfully on the seat. To Eltheran's right sat the dreaded Urogkuul advisor. Nobody moved until she had (with purposely slowed movements) sat down.  
  
The hall was still silent, then, "All of you! Stand, and stand in the graceful beauty that thy Fair Maiden presents. Toast to the returned one!" Eltheran cried, and he stood up and drained his goblet.  
  
In unison, the diners below rose from their seats and repeated his exclamation, then several of their own to the good health of the said Princess.  
  
The feast wore on with all of the usual boredom that was incorporated in such public events. Adariel scarcely touched her food, and only pretended to eat dishes that looked like they were in the least bit edible. Her disgust at seeing the way the orcs guzzled down anything and everything made her stomach squirm. But as all events that go by in the world, time announced an end to the feast.  
  
Suddenly, Eltheran stood and stared around the hall. Everybody was immediately silent.  
  
'They have been well trained,' Adariel thought sadly, 'or, perhaps, thoroughly brain washed.'  
  
"Yes, I am sure that the Princess is glad to be back in our society," Eltheran began, and here Adariel made herself bow her head rather stiffly in acknowledgment, "but I feel that she is yet still a stranger to our ways. Have we not changed much over the year? Have we not taken our steps toward a greater future for our remaining kind in faith that we will be united under the power of Sauron himself?"  
  
An uncertain roar of approval swelled slowly, then died away.  
  
"Yes," Eltheran stressed, then continued. "It is to the credit of the Princess Adariel to experience our ways that we have come to choose, which is why…we have a gift to her to welcome her back into our much changed company."  
  
The orcs and the changed ones applauded. The 'free' elves did not.  
  
Adariel suddenly felt apprehensive and stopped herself from fidgeting in her seat. She did not like the idea of a gift announced so publicly. Was it not enough for him to give it to her privately? Had he wanted to present it to her in the private audience earlier and changed his mind? And the orcs were applauding. Why were the orcs applauding?  
  
Eltheran did not make a move to speak on, and with a start, Adariel realized he was waiting for her response. 'I will satisfy, for now,' she thought to herself.  
  
Aloud, she said, "How cruel you are to make me wait in such anticipation for a gift given so freely! Pray tell, what may it be?"  
  
"I am glad to see you so delighted!" Eltheran said, satisfied with the spoilt tone of her voice. "Bring in the 'gift'!"  
  
Instead of seeing some item brought in on a tray as she had expected, Adariel heard the moaning and clanking of heavy chains scrapping the floor from afar. There was no need express her surprise, or her horror. It was clear in her manner. Adariel clamped a hand over her mouth automatically and did not see the twisted smile that Eltheran gave her.  
  
Slowly, ever slowly, dark shapes formed in the corridor that had opened up. Two confident walking elvish shapes could bee seen, each dragging something harshly. Then Adariel made out shapes in the darkness walking with determined defiance. They were but a blur at first, and she did not recognize them until they were near the light of the hall.  
  
And then she gasped as softly as she could.  
  
Aragorn. Gimli. Boromir. And Legolas.  
  
The lurch her heart did upon the sight of Legolas was similar to the one that she had felt outside of the tunnels of Moria, except more violent. A small voice in her mind sang tauntingly: 'you love him! You're hopelessly in love with him! Your admiration knows no bounds! Your heart belongs to him –'  
  
And equally strong voice in her head cut it off, and with a cruel sneer said: 'what do you know? You are the heart, and you know no reason, whereas I am the creator of Logic.'  
  
'Absence makes the heart grow fonder…' sang the other voice.  
  
'Only the stupid fall in love…' said the second, until Adariel found herself suddenly upon her feet.  
  
The whole room was looking at her, including her friends, dirtied and stained with the rusty color of blood. Adariel wondered why their expressions did not change upon the sight of her, then she remembered that her hood was up and that she was dressed in dark shades.  
  
"Is something the matter, Princess?" Eltheran was studying her carefully. Adariel did not trust her voice to speak so she only waved her satisfaction, or what she hoped would be taken for agreement.  
  
"These prisoners are at your disposal, my dear!" Eltheran announced with an easy smile touching his face. "Do as you please with them, they are yours entirely. But I warn you. Only one of them is immortal! The humans and the dwarf do not keep long. Better to rid of them all when you grow tired of them."  
  
There was a commotion and a heavy clanging of chains. It was Gimli who stepped forward, and shouted with unchecked rage, "You traitors, all of you! Us dwarves who you have long since looked upon with an air of haughtiness…we would never disgrace our kin with such an act –" here he was cut off by the knife at his throat. Several laughed uneasily at his outburst, and Eltheran glared.  
  
Turning to Adariel, Eltheran said, "I had built a room while you were in private audience downstairs for these prisoners to be kept. They are just off your chamber, so you may do as you please with them."  
  
So THAT'S what the empty room next to hers was for.  
  
"I thank you kindly," Adariel said, pitching her voice to be higher than usual, and grateful that he had not announced her name. Then she remembered that her name was never spoken publicly, and was relieved. "And I shall see what I may do with these…things. 'Tis such a gift, and I thank you for it."  
  
"Of course, of course!" Eltheran clapped his hands. "And now, we must go back. There is much work to be done here. Morladris never sleeps."  
  
At his bidding, the feast broke up, and he turned back to his daughter. "They have been taken to your floor, Adariel. I shall give you the privacy to having them the first night, and should anything happen, I have posted guards near your chamber. But I do not doubt your skill to defend yourself!"  
  
Adariel nodded, but said, "How came you to know that I could wield a weapon?"  
  
"Come now!" Eltheran stepped back to an impersonal distance, at ease with himself in the empty room. "You do not expect me to not notice the arrows that went missing mysteriously from the guards quarters in the earlier years?"  
  
This surprised a slight laugh from Adariel, and she immediately cut it off.  
  
"Well, I must take my leave, Dear One. Toy with them tonight and see how you like the feel of power between your fingertips. You will come to love it, I am sure and then you shall understand my motives for the joining of the Army of the One Eye." And he left, handing her a small, silver key.  
  
  
  
  
  
The rustling from the newly converted chamber next to hers was unbearable, especially since Adariel understood who was in the gloomy darkness. As her footsteps drew near, a tense stillness came from the locked room. Adariel paused outside the door. It had only one barred slit to look through, and it was too dark for her to see inside. But she did not doubt them to be staring hard at her.  
  
She opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it and moved on until she stopped at the doorway of her chamber. Changing her mind, she turned back and took out the key that hung from her neck.  
  
At the sound of the slight jingling of the silver key, there was a flurry of whispers that flew back and forth in the room. Adariel had to smile. They were planning escape when she opened the door, seeing as she was alone.  
  
"Do not try it," she said as icily as she could. "There are more guards here than then entire army of Saruman."  
  
"I would rather die," came a voice from within, "than serve one who would have all my kin slaughtered." The hatred in the tone was like a slap to Adariel, and she drew back, key waving back and forth from her hand. She could almost feel the gaze upon the key.  
  
"I will let you out now," Adariel said.  
  
"Do what you will," said the voice of Gimli. "But I shall warn you, 'fair' lady, that we shall do what WE will too."  
  
Adariel suddenly had an idea. She could tell someone she trusted her secret, and then perhaps they could work together to formulate a plan out. It was too late for herself, she acknowledged, but somehow there had got to be a way to release her charges. But who to confide too?  
  
The first name that came into her head was Aragorn, and reason picked him first. But reason was twisted by emotion, and the image of the word ARAGORN soon transformed themselves to make LEGOLAS in her mind. She frowned, confused. Who to choose? Better to go with her head, or her heart?  
  
And why was she making such a fuss on such a small decision.  
  
"Guards!" she called softly, as not to raise too much of an alarm. There were immediately four by her side, looking dully at her.  
  
The prisoners cursed and re-cursed them all. The guards paid no heed.  
  
"The prisoner Legolas is to come with me."  
  
It was with difficulty that the doors could be opened, and knife tips gleamed in the dim light. The initial struggle died down to quietness as each prisoner found a sharp tip at their throat. Legolas stepped forward voluntarily, unwilling to see his companions suffer.  
  
The doors clanged shut after him, and he faced the hooded, feminine figure of his captor.  
  
"Take us down to the lake, and then you are to leave us alone at the tunnel of the path. Leave me a blade and be assured that I may defend myself, if need be." Adariel ordered. The sneer of hatred on Legolas's face was heartaching. She longed to shake him and say that she was not who she appeared to be.  
  
"I will never EVER submit to your treatment!" he spat at her. "I shall die first!"  
  
The guard behind him pushed him roughly forward, and they started down the iron staircase and headed through the doors that lead outside the great building. The night air was warm from the heat of the metal melting fires. The stench of work drifted past them as they walked on, with Adariel in the lead to the rounding tunnel that Eltheran had first showed her.  
  
They wound upwards in that torchlit spiral and stopped as the cool night air met them. The moon was up through the trees, and the lake gleamed and reflected the frosty starlight. The grass was a dark green, and wind was picking up.  
  
Legolas gasped at the small display of beauty amongst the black hatred and destruction. He did not hear the hooded lady whisper to the guards as she took a sword from one of them,  
  
"Leave us."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
1.1 End of Chapter 14  
  
Reviews please! NO FLAMES but constructive criticism is very welcome! –Spirit Star  
  
  
  
Yeah! Back from camp! Anyway, considering the diminishing cuts and bruises on my leg, I have to say that it was not as bad an experience as I had thought!  
  
Anyway, maybe I WILL change the rating to PG-13. But don't think it'll go any higher than that in the next chapter! They're not going to do something worthy of an R any time soon (sorry)! But maybe I'll think about it…  
  
Sorry about the short chapter but I've got school tomorrow, but I had last Friday off coz the teachers were on strike AGAIN! Yeah!!! Lucky me!  
  
Oh, and I got the Sindarin dictionary in pdf form but I totally forgot where I got it from…sorry. Search around on the net. I'm sure you'll find it. It's supposed to be really popular. I do remember that you have to register to get it though… 


	15. Chapter 15: In which It begins

Disclaimer: Hear no Copyright. See no Copyright. (Nah, actually, what I mean is that I don't own anything that Tolkien owns).  
  
  
  
  
  
Echoes of the Narbeleth  
  
Spirit Star  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 15: In which It begins.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
As soon as the guards' footsteps had receded, Adariel whirled swiftly and placed the blade at her companion's throat. He froze, halfway in the middle of stepping towards her.  
  
"It's not going to work," Adariel murmured softly, shaking her head. "I thought I had told you that already."  
  
"What do you want?" he demanded.  
  
"You'd be surprised. Now swear that you won't try to harm me, and I will lower the blade." When he didn't answer, and glared at her, she dug the blade in deeper. "Promise."  
  
"No."  
  
"Do it." She pressed harder, but more carefully, half wincing.  
  
"Kill me first, being the creature that you are I am sure you will find pleasure in doing it." He narrowed his eyes.  
  
"Look," Adariel said, letting her guard down and stepping backwards. "I'm only trying to –"  
  
Her sentence was cut off as he swiftly maneuvered past her, bumping the blade out of her hands and gripping it tightly with practiced grace and pushing her to the soft, grassy floor. She felt the cold cut of the tip at her throat and the heavy weight of him pinning her down. The wind was cool on her flushed face inside the dark hood.  
  
The blade drove in deeper, and she remembered herself, gasping out loud.  
  
"Wait!" she grit her teeth, each sound making her throat rise against the blade. The iron taste of blood flooded her senses. "I'm only trying to help you!"  
  
"Do I look like a fool?"  
  
"Let me stand up, at least." He narrowed his eyes, but slowly let the pressure off her so she could sit up. When she raised her hands, the blade was immediately pressing back into the hollow of her neck. She shook her hands slowly to show that she wasn't about to attack or call for help and slowly, gently reached to the back of her hood.  
  
The dark material glided under her hands as she slowly eased it off herself, glad as the air met her skin and loving the feel of the cold wind whip her styled hair about. She longed to tear out the ribbons that the maids had twined in it. It felt heavy, dragging her head back down.  
  
There was a swift gasp, and the blade dropped from Legolas's hands. It fell heavily, and buried itself in the soft soil, but not before it scraped smoothly across Adariel's forearm, slicing it cleanly. Dark droplets of blood made wide pools in her sleeve, but did not seep out. She carefully rolled the material and inspected the cut. It was not deep, but not shallow either.  
  
So quick was the cut that she had not felt any pain on contact, but now a swift pounding started from her arm and spread until it reached her head. She groaned and massaged it with her good arm.  
  
There had been no reaction from her companion who was staring at her, no longer stupefied, but contemplating with a cautious look in his eyes. He spoke now, his voice low and saddened with grimness touching his ageless face.  
  
"How could you?" he said, without anger but instead with disappointment.  
  
She was suddenly angry, with the pounding in her arm like a drum, and her pulse beating.  
  
"No," she snapped, "How could YOU?"  
  
At his questioning look, she pushed him backwards. He retreated a couple of steps, surprised. "How could you have let yourself be captured? Was my sacrifice pointless? I'm back where I started for what cause?"  
  
At his silence, she pushed him again, towards the edge of the lake. "How could you accuse me of such a thing that I find so disgusting? How could you even think that I would betray you? All of you. Aragorn, Gimli, Boromir, whom I had given my life to protect. Answer my question before you demand me to answer yours. How could YOU?"  
  
They were at the edge of the lake now, and he had backed himself up against an aged willow tree with its curtain like leaves hanging. They were out of sight, inside the shelter of the willow strings. The sound of water being churned by the breeze was soothing, but not to Adariel.  
  
She continued to push him until he was against the tree, pinned back. He made no move to defend himself, backing up with each step she came forward, and all the while with his face emotionless and thoughtful. It was almost as if he was trying to decide what to feel, and she hoped that he would decide upon remorse, and not pity.  
  
She hated pity.  
  
"Answer me!" she cried, her eyes wild and her lips flushed crimson as the blood rushed through her body from her pounding heart. The blood on her wound dripped slowly, thickly onto the creamy skin just beneath the rise of her collarbone. She tilted her head up and glared, waiting for a reaction, daring him to argue.  
  
The answer was one she had not been expecting.  
  
Warm lips met hers, smothering the still-formed word she had been about to utter. Her head was spinning and her heart was dull with want and ache. She tried half heartedly to push him away, but he bit her lip gently, chiding her. The wind was singing in her ear and the lull of the water washed back and forward, back and forward, back and forward…  
  
Then it was over, and her eyes fluttered open. She had not even been conscious that they had been closed.  
  
There was remorse in his eyes, but no regret. She wiped the faraway look off her face carefully and licked her lips, noting their glossy sheen. She could still feel the soft pressure on her lips, and the gentle, soft lingering taste that she would file away in her memory to be replayed some time when she was feeling less confused.  
  
"I'm sorry…" he said when he saw the crystal tear form and drift down her cheek.  
  
"No," she said, "I should be the one apologizing."  
  
"Whatever for?" he asked, coming in closer and wiping the tear away with a slim finger. She stepped away quickly, and reached behind her, parting the willow curtain and stepping outside. He followed her out with swift steps and she saw him suddenly, as the image of the still body she had seen in the Mirror of Galadriel.  
  
She felt cold, and bitter.  
  
The lake was no longer a comfort, and the wind was no longer her friend nor the trees that looked down on her accusingly.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said again, another tear leaking out the corner of her eye, followed by several more.  
  
"For what?" he persisted, but stood still rather than corner her. She smiled, the tears stopping as she thought how small a gesture could represent so much, could tell of so many things. And how her reaction to it could express so many things about herself.  
  
"I'm not sure I understand myself," she said slowly with a slight frown on her face as she tried to regain her composure. Her face smoothed out. Her eyes lost their vulnerable glaze so fast that Legolas wasn't even sure that it had been there in the first place. The images from her dreams, the mirror and her own wild conscience ran briefly through her head. She straightened. "Please. This isn't good for me, or for you."  
  
"Don't speak for me," he said firmly, a faraway look in his eyes as if he was reliving a memory. "but I shall leave it be, as we have more pressing matters at hand."  
  
At first she looked startled, then nodded seriously, her body stiff. "You believe me, don't you?"  
  
"As always, I am forced to."  
  
"Forced? I was under the impression that you were very liberal in your own opinion." Her hand flew to the disappearing trickle of blood at prick in her neck.  
  
He apologized immediately and reached out a hand to her wound. She stepped back, her movements guarded and startled like a sitting bird when a splash of water had hit its wing. She relaxed, too late. He looked slightly offended and she felt guilty.  
  
"Forced." He repeated himself, confirming it with his tone. She gulped, trying to look for a change in the mood and the subject.  
  
"Aragorn, Boromir and Gimli are locked in my room, and I have the key. But I am unable to free them, because of the metal flooring. It echoes, to alert the guards underneath of my movements. Too many heavy footsteps will trigger alarm. There is no way that you may escape climbing out, as the walls are to smooth and they will be in perfect targeting range for all. My window faces the entrance."  
  
She stopped for breath, knowing that she was speaking too fast, a little incoherently. Legolas chose to ignore it.  
  
"Is there another way out?" he mused as he sat down on the grassy bank of the river. The evening moon reflected upon it with the silver-sprayed stars twinkling unevenly on the smooth surface. The wind had disappeared and the sweet scent of the surviving greenness drifted about them, twining itself between them. The silver light cast shadows as the willow strands stood still and the heavy feel of deep night fell about them, thick and smothering.  
  
She was still standing, and felt the pull to sit beside him. Reluctantly, she gave in to the impulse and tucked her feet into her skirts.  
  
He looked up, startled, then withdrew back into his thoughts, a moody look chiseled in his stance. "Aragorn would have been better at this," he admitted.  
  
"But he might not have understood," she said, looking for an excuse and finding it.  
  
"Do not judge Aragorn," Legolas said "He is not all he seems to be."  
  
It was getting late, and Adariel heard the heavy sound of footsteps walk swiftly up the tunnel as the last star made its appearance in the onyx sky. She stood up quickly, with Legolas a pace ahead of her as she bent to pick up the glistening blade that had crimson droplets sprayed loosely at the tip.  
  
He grabbed it out of her loosely gripped hands, and with swift cuts, a dozen shallow cuts appeared and trickles of blood ran down his cheeks. Adariel gasped in horror and mutely took the hilt of the blade that was offered to her.  
  
"Hush," he hissed seriously, unnecessarily, turning away as if in pain.  
  
The Orcs appeared with frozen snarls upon their scarred faces, and stood with squinted, glaring eyes staring at the scene before them. One of them smiled, the sides of their bloodless lips tipped up. The smile made Adariel sick, for it was a knowing smile, full of lust for blood and the memory of a first kill.  
  
Unwillingly, Adariel smiled back tightly. An elf emerged through the tunnel and shoved his way roughly to the front, glaring at the Orcs as their piercing eyes narrowed at him. Ignoring the Orcs, the elf bowed hastily and jerked his head slightly.  
  
"It's not safe outside when the moon is hidden within the clutches of the ithil-trees. Retire inside. Your father wishes it."  
  
Adariel studied the elf, her face blank and expressionless. It was a silent battle of wills, although she suspected the elf himself wasn't aware of it. She was the one who gave in first, having no particular resolve against his suggestion. There was a silence that touched her skin and prickled at the pricked skin at her neck.  
  
"Very well," she said reluctantly, and gestured to two of the Orcs. They looked at each other and then at Legolas with a gleam in their eyes.  
  
"Don't forget my father's orders!" she warned them as they stepped forward with the spring of a pouncing cat. Satisfied that the Orcs' fear of Eltheran would be enough to contain them, she stepped through the opening that the group of Orcs had made and led them down the smooth, firelit tunnel and out into the fiery heat of the forge and work pits.  
  
The blast of heat from the dug pits put a blush into her cheeks as she strode forward, keeping her eyes on the black shape that she knew to be the main hall. There came cries of mercy and pain from somewhere close by, but she dared not turn her head. She heard the party behind her snicker and laugh, wheezy snorts following her.  
  
Through the open doors they strode, and immediately up the winding steps until they reached the top, and then to the room next to her own.  
  
"Come hither," she turned to one of the Orcs, whose eyes had strayed toward the door of her own room, and to her bed outlined in the moonlight.  
  
It turned, and leered at her unabashed. "Yes?" it said defiantly.  
  
"Stay afterwards, and I shall give you a message to deliver to my father," she said coldly. It nodded, eyes looking bright with lust. Adariel turned away, sick.  
  
Legolas looked defiant as the Orcs shoved him roughly into the black cell, skillfully avoiding contact with any of the other prisoners who had charged half-heartedly. Before he disappeared into the hungry darkness, Legolas lifted his eyes and looked at her, and she felt his eyes pierce through the shadows over her face cast by the hood. She lifted one had up slightly and tilted her head. He disappeared into the chamber.  
  
The Orc she had asked behind was right behind her as she spun around. She gave a slight cry in surprise, then seethed in rage. She knew exactly what she was going to write on that parchment that this disgusting creature would hand to her father. "You, wait here," she said, pointing to the very spot outside the shut cell door. She strode into her room and grabbed a blank white piece of paper, and dipped her finger into the ink when she was unable to locate a quill.  
  
Sealing it tightly, she shoved the folded parchment into the waiting hands of the creature and motioned to the stairs. It looked her up and down, the slowly drifted back up again. She gave it a shove and it went sprawling.  
  
"Never. Do. That. Again," she said, biting each word and cutting the sounds off with her teeth. The Orc walked triumphantly, its arched back straightened to its capacity, and its sword clanking at its side inside the scabbard carved with strange words.  
  
The clanking footsteps faded into silence as their echoes disappeared somewhere below her. She turned and tried to peer into the cell through the bars of a small window, but no matter how hard she tried, no shape was to be sought. She remembered the set of keys that she had hung under her neckline, and thought about unlocking the door. Then she lowered her hand. No doubt there would be spies about. Better to leave it, and perhaps look for another chance by the light of day.  
  
"Goodnight," she whispered to nobody in particular. There was no answer, and she left, her hand lingering on the door frame of the dreaded prison.  
  
  
  
That night, the dreams that had been subdued for so long came back full force. Shadows danced before her eyes, and wild things clawed their way from the tops of the dark and silent trees. Silver blood, laced with dark streaks ran like a waterfall by her feet, and she heard the phantom laugh of the wicked.  
  
Flowers in bloom wilted and were crushed by an invisible force that ran circles around her and when her dream eyes blinked, the scene changed. From burning trees to the blood stained battle ground, from the tops of the Misty Mountains to the dulling leaves of the Golden Wood. And through it all was the dripping of a liquid thicker than water, and the glint of a white flashing blade in front of blind white eyes.  
  
From shadows leapt the fury of a thousand fires that whirled in a tornado of red and orange, as ashes that smelt of burnt flesh rippled in waves. This was the Sea of the Damned, and these were the Souls of the Damned that cried out for mercy, and the limbs that paled in the otherworldly flames of the Fire Unquenched clawed at her dream self.  
  
Not even the morning sun brought her any comfort. The night had seemed a thousand years.  
  
As the first of the clouds unraveled and thinned, Adariel sat up as she shook off the last phantom hand and opened her eyes without squinting or blinking. The room was dark still, although the stirrings from below told her that morning had come for her at last.  
  
  
  
She brushed her hair slowly, deliberately, jerking hard until it hurt and then releasing so suddenly that it felt as if a thistle had jabbed her. She saw nothing in front of her, and when the first maid rushed in to help her dress, she stared at her blankly, unseeing.  
  
The maid uttered a cry, and took a step backwards and pointed to the mirror. Adariel's sight cleared. She saw the finger directed past her into the shiny glassy surface of the silver mirror, and she turned.  
  
The girl inside was still Adariel, but there was something not right about her. Adariel peered closer. It was like chasing sunlight, or moonlight. Something that slipped between your fingers, just out of reach, just out of sight. She blinked, and gasped. The eyes, they were changing colour, darkening to the usual gray-blue color. They had been blank before, just white.  
  
Her cheeks began to redden from their ash color.  
  
The maid was still frozen when Adariel turned back to face her. Gravely, hiding her fear behind a cold barrier, Adariel said "Tell nobody of this, and live. Utter one word, and you will have spoken your last."  
  
The elf nodded, regaining composure and backing away. As soon as she was out of sight, Adariel heard the quick footsteps that indicated running.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, Adariel saw that she looked absolutely normal again, although a little shaken. She touched her cheek, and slowly wiped away a glittering tear. Her gown rustled slightly with the movement of her arm. For a long time, she did not move, staring at the mirror yet not at all. Memories of another mirror she had chanced to peer into came back to her. A shadow of a chill ran up her spine.  
  
It had started. Adariel knew that it would sweep her through, and she felt the mysterious feeling that had eluded her since her arrival in the dug valley name itself.  
  
It was Despair, child of Fear and Helplessness.  
  
The knowledge scared her more than her image in the mirror had. She knew now the name of it all, just as she felt it in her blood. The Change. It was waking within her, stirring like the sleeping monster it was. And it was not Pain as Adariel had originally thought that snapped it out of its slumber. It was Despair, caged in the heart of every element, every living thing and hidden by the light of Hope.  
  
She had shed her last tear. She would cry no more.  
  
Adariel had expected to feel horror, but instead, felt an indifference that startled her. Something was controlling her emotions, and she could feel it slyly tugging at the edge of her mind as well, fighting for control. Once started, the Change could not be stopped or reversed. It could only be put off and dragged out at a later time.  
  
Vaguely Adariel wondered if somewhere, a reflection of herself would project itself onto the still waters of the Mirror of Galadriel, or maybe in the haunted dreams of some other being, cursed and gifted with the sight of Seeing.  
  
The movement in the next room roused her. The hushed voices of people she had come to trust, against her good judgment. Yet she felt nothing. But that didn't stop her, and her resolve was still her own.  
  
They had to escape, and soon. They had been chosen, and they had to continue their purpose. Her journey ended here, in the darkness of the valley that she had started off in. Maybe it was all for nothing, she mused. Whatever was going on inside of her, she knew by instinct that the prisoners must escape soon, and it was that basic thought that she imprinted deep inside the hidden walls of her mind, away from the snatching tendrils that had started to reach out and overtake her.  
  
One step at a time, at least.  
  
A rough grumble floated through from the chamber next to her own. She had neglected her charges. Adariel felt hatred bubble inside her. It was pure hatred, not laced with anything but the source that drove it on. There was no planning, no plotting, no annoyance. It was simply there, reaching up through her heart and clawing its way out.  
  
She ruthlessly pressed it down.  
  
Adariel changed her mind. They had to escape. Today, or at the latest, tonight.  
  
One step at a time, one thought at a time. Cautiously, slowly, deliberately. The dark claws of Change would not take all of her yet.  
  
"Whither are you?" a voice called softly. Adariel stirred from her spot, hand immediately grabbing at the key around her neck and clenching shut.  
  
"I am here," she said softly and walking quickly to the slot of the door where Aragorn, Gimli, Boromir and Legolas were shut away. Her footsteps rang out softly and Adariel tried to remember to include metal floors into her plans.  
  
"Legolas has told us what he could," Aragorn's voice came through. It was still strong, although a little rusty.  
  
"He had better be right," Gimli cut in, and there was a soft clang as if something had been hit. Adariel guessed it was the wall. "You had better not be the witch that I had first thought—"  
  
The last word became muffled like something had smothered it. Despite the situation, Adariel could still detect a speck of humor in Aragorn's voice. "Legolas. Gimli," he said firmly.  
  
"How is Boromir?" she asked, eager to understand all that she could.  
  
"He is faring the best out of us all," Aragorn confirmed. Adariel thought the lack of pain in her body might have been a good sign that Boromir was not being treated too roughly, or at least, not for the time being.  
  
"You must find a way out," Adariel said. "Today."  
  
More rustling inside the deep darkness. Some whispers and movement rolled around, then was still, and Adariel heard the clanking of heavy footsteps up the stairs.  
  
"I must go, but if it were my choice, I would willingly trade places with all of you, the Dwarf included," Adariel said quickly and stepped away from the door.  
  
A second later, the faces of a company of Orcs appeared on the landing. They looked from the door to Adariel suspiciously, and Adariel wondered without emotion if they were smarter than they seemed to be when not preoccupied with blood lust.  
  
"Yes?" she asked.  
  
"One of our number was slaughtered last night," one of them stepped forward. Brave, Adariel noted. "He was the one that you requested stay behind."  
  
"Ah, of course." Adariel thought back to her hurried script on the parchment and felt the Change stir satisfyingly. What was it that she had written? Oh yes.  
  
Father.  
  
I find this creature disgusting and imprudent. Kill him.  
  
  
  
The orc said no more, but stepped back, afraid at the different manner in which Adariel acted. He could almost feel the gaze upon him and it burnt into his skin.  
  
Inside Adariel's heart, another black tendril snacked its way up another layer. But woven inside the darkened waters of her heart-stream, a flash of silver struggled its way up to the top of the murky black. It was silver, like a fish as it struggled upstream into her heart of hearts. Within it, it carried the hazy memory of a soft evening kiss.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
1.1 End of Chapter 15  
  
Reviews please! NO FLAMES but constructive criticism is very welcome! –Spirit Star  
  
  
  
Hmm, a little moody I know, but I'm extremely annoyed with my mother at the moment so I guess it sort of reflected into my writing. Forget annoyed, I'm peeved.  
  
Happy Easter by the way! 


	16. Chapter 16: In which hope shines white

Disclaimer: Hear no Copyright. See no Copyright. (Nah, actually, what I mean is that I don't own anything that Tolkien owns).  
  
  
  
  
  
Echoes of the Narbeleth  
  
Spirit Star  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 16: In which hope shines white  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Early morning drifted past to noon and noon floated by into early evening and still, Adariel could not think of a way to free the captives. In fact, she could not think straight at all. Constantly, it was a struggle between the right thing to do and the black tendrils that wanted to pull her down into deep, dark hate.  
  
The hate in the heart of an Orc.  
  
Yet with the new emotions came a new skill: a determination to fulfill a goal. Adariel somehow understood now why Orcs and foul creatures were stupid enough to keep attacking even as their own were cut down by the hundreds on a full fledged battle field. It was the irrepressible will to do what they had set out to do, no matter what the situation.  
  
So it was with this surge of determination that a simple and hazardous plan was borne. And it was such a plan that it would have failed but for the unexpected arrival of a certain person.  
  
When dusk had fallen, Adariel noticed that there were many more Orcs scurrying about, although there were not as many Elves. She concluded that this was because Orcs detested daylight while some Elves who were not yet Changed detested the darkness and what lies and illusions the night concealed.  
  
As her footsteps landed on the first stair down the winding iron staircase, she could feel the whole of Morladris was stirring as if something had taken step amongst them. Something powerful, for with her new senses, Adariel detected easily of power and feared it. Below were the hurried footsteps of rushing figures as hundreds made their way outside and from her height, Adariel saw that the throne room had been thrown open and left unguarded.  
  
She cocked her head a little; a puzzled frown lit upon her face. She backed away into the shadow of a tall, jagged pillar rising from the very bottom floor and wrapped herself in the safety that the dark had to offer. There were footsteps now, from the outside approaching the inner hallway. They were steady footsteps, and heavy unlike one of an Elf, but not clumsy like Orcs.  
  
All who gathered by the doorways stood to attention.  
  
Eltheran himself appeared as suddenly as the rolling mists in the mountains would lift after the sun had risen. He looked straight ahead at something and nodded his head in acknowledgment. It was quiet, almost silent but for the swishes of robes as the approached the door.  
  
A blazing figure in shimmering white hidden by the folds of a magnificent glaring cloak stepped inside, and paused.  
  
Adariel felt herself stir as the unwelcome feeling of fear radiated from the tendrils inside of her. She felt a wave of darkness was over her eyes, then retreat again. It was afraid. *She* was afraid. And her newfound horror grew as she saw the figure in white lift its head up and stare straight through the shadow and into her widened eyes. She felt something pierce through her, and all of a sudden she could think clearly. The darkness seemed to have hidden or disappeared. But as soon as the figure turned back, she felt her thoughts muddle again as they raged a secret storm somewhere inside of her.  
  
The figure turned to Eltheran, who seemed not to have noticed what had happened just moments before. To Adariel's surprise, he bowed slightly. As slightly as his position and pride would allow him, and then straightened hastily to address the visitor. Adariel listened keenly with curiosity to all that passed between the two.  
  
"Greetings Curunir," Eltheran said, and Adariel saw that he carried a staff that he leaned upon.  
  
"Yes," Curunir said, "and to you my ever faithful."  
  
Eltheran nodded to the surrounding orcs and elves who stood to attention. They scattered quickly, leaving only the two alone in the hall. Eltheran gestured to the throne room but Curunir shook cloaked head.  
  
"Alas, no," said he. "I would rather stay here where the open doors do not cage me."  
  
"You still think us to betray you?" Eltheran said bitterly.  
  
"No," Curunir said with an easy laugh. "I *know* you to be traitors. But that is not the issue I have come to talk to you about. Ah, no. But first let me set my eyes once more on your halls for I have had much to do and my mind wills me into silence for a while."  
  
It puzzled Adariel why Eltheran did not strike back at the unseemly comment by the stranger. She had heard of the name Curunir before, but could not remember where she had heard it from. To her, it had been a long time ago.  
  
Although bitter, Eltheran consented and then by a sudden memory, invited Curunir to meet his daughter. Adariel started and leapt quietly back to her chamber where she knew her father would send a messenger up to find her. One came swiftly, and requested her presence, which she granted with a slightly confused glare.  
  
As she drew closer to the white figure of Curunir, she felt the shadows within her crawl back and with every step she could feel the freedom of another part of her once more. Her thoughts cleared and her movements became less sluggish. Curunir and Eltheran both turned at the sound of her footsteps.  
  
"Adariel," Eltheran welcomed, his voice lifting a little, "may I be privileged enough to introduce you to Curunir called Saruman the White by the Men of the North?"  
  
Curunir seemed to smile through his cloak, saying, "Well met, Lady Adariel. I have heard so much, albeit too much, about you."  
  
"You may reveal yourself, Daughter. Curunir is senior even to myself and you are not in the presence of servants and such." Turning to Curunir, he added, "My invitation is to you as well, Lord. For you have nothing to fear in the presence of Adariel."  
  
"Of that I am well aware," Curunir said, "but it is my choice and I choose to say nay."  
  
"Very well," Eltheran replied, and gestured onwards. "You have not come since the beginning of your reign at Orthanc began." And he started leading Curunir through various rooms that Adariel herself had never come to.  
  
Curunir was silent as he was led through the various collections and sitting places of the rather drab looking rooms that were too dark to see through. Adariel wondered what he was thinking, silent as he was. Eltheran seemed to take no heed and walked them about the immensely large rooms of the place that Adariel had never even known to exist.  
  
She blanched at the thought of them heading up toward her own rooms where Aragorn and his companions were waiting in the dark. So when Curunir suddenly spoke up as they neared her chambers, she was not only surprised, but interested as the feeling of gratitude washed over her.  
  
"As I am guessing, these that we are approaching belong to the Lady Adariel," Curunir said, and Eltheran was hasty to confirm.  
  
"Well then!" he clapped his hands that were tucked within the shimmering white sleeves of his robe. "Why not let Adariel show me around these last few halls? She has not said a word at all since I first met her. Come now, Daughter of Eltheran. Are you mute that you do not grace us with your voice?"  
  
"My Lord," Adariel said demurely.  
  
"I shall take my leave of you," Eltheran announced, nodding. "But should you find that I am needed, send word through one of the guards."  
  
"Unnecessary, as I am able to summon you as I please," Curunir observed to Eltheran's retreating back. Turning to Adariel, he beckoned her closer. When she did not move, he sighed and said, "I do not bite when I am not hungry."  
  
Uncertain if this comment was to make her feel better, Adariel stepped forward anyway.  
  
The sudden hand that snatched out and latched itself onto her arm startled her. It clasped her tightly, and she could feel her arm growing numb. Curunir seemed to study her carefully inside and out. He pulled her a little closer and held her there for a while. She dared not move. Suddenly, she was released and her tense muscles sprang her backwards.  
  
"I see, it is late, but not too late." murmured Curunir, an unidentifiable emotion beneath his words.  
  
Not knowing what to say, Adariel uttered the first thing that floated on her mind. "Shall we go now, My Lord?"  
  
"Of course," he replied smoothly, and they headed up to the landing of her floor.  
  
  
  
  
  
The nights were long and the days were darker to Aragorn, who had spent so much of his time outside underneath the sky and weathering the bitter rains and the harsh sunshine. He paced, stopped, and paced again careful not to bump into any of the other figures scattered around the small room.  
  
"I like it not that we are to sit idle," growled Gimli, leaping up from his place on the floor and banging his fist against the echoing metal of the wall.  
  
Aragorn spun around, glad of an excuse to speak. "Yet we must. I have faith in Lady Adariel, for she is sister of Arwen daughter of Elrond. She has noble blood in her veins, and I am sure it would not desert her so easily."  
  
"Will you be so sure?" Boromir broke in.  
  
They fell silent again.  
  
Peering through the bars where the only light was coming through, Legolas was ever watchful. He wondered at the way of the strange folk whom he knew once to be his own kin. They wandered around sometimes, though there was rarely a guard in sight.  
  
Fleetingly, he caught a glimpse of a figure dressed in magnificent white round a corner and head towards their door. Beside him, Adariel strode hesitantly as if unsure what to do, glancing at the door to their prison then back again at the cloaked stranger.  
  
"There is a stranger coming hither…cloaked in white," Legolas said even as suspicion turned into certainty.  
  
Aragorn leapt around and quickly came to the door, with Legolas stepping lightly aside. He muttered something under his breath, but appeared puzzled and troubled at the same time. Gimli, who was not tall enough to see through the gap in the door, made a move to grasp at his ax when he remembered that it was not there.  
  
"No doubt it's Saruman," Gimli growled. Boromir looked grim but did not make any move to even stand.  
  
"Saruman, yes," Aragorn said, and to their surprise he sat down next to Boromir. "But I perceive that there is something strange in the manner of the White Stranger. At any rate, Saruman or no, we are still weaponless."  
  
Reluctantly, Gimli moved back to where Legolas was standing next to the wall and they waited grimly as silently as the footsteps drew near. The words were muffled, but became clearer although the conversation was pointless. No information could be withdrawn from the words exchanged, and there was falseness in the sentiments that made it hard to bear to listen to.  
  
Then suddenly, there came a light from the outline of the door and with a swift sound it swung open.  
  
  
  
  
  
The flash of the silver key glittered, even in the heavy darkness as Adariel saw it turn in the lock. Her surprise temporarily stayed by curiosity, and she wondered how the white-robed figure had snatched the key from her without her noticing. Her fear drew on her tongue and she darted in front of him, even as the door opened.  
  
"Who art thou who takes from thy host so swiftly? Stay your hand!" she demanded, although she knew that this was one who had passed evil into the realm of the Fangorn.  
  
"Do move!" Curunir said, but not harshly. "I do no ill to your father's kingdom, yet woe befalls it anyway. I know what it is that hides in the shadows of this room. Move, I saw!"  
  
By some power that overcame her will Adariel stepped aside.  
  
"Saruman!" came a cry from inside, and Curunir turned aside, gesturing outwards.  
  
"I know of you, and how strange it seems. Two Men, a Dwarf and an Elf. Come and enlighten me of your journey for I am very curious. Curious indeed."  
  
"You live a Traitor's lie!" Gimli roared, and seemed ready to charge out, but something restrained him.  
  
"You must give your word not to do us harm," Aragorn's voice reached out of the dark chamber, and movement stirred within.  
  
"Upon my honor, I give you my word," Curunir smiled, a half smile.  
  
"Pray, swear upon anything but your honor! A traitor has none left, and you shall not abide by your vow," came the answer steadily.  
  
"Wise you are, still!" the white figure laughed. "And if I had thought your word insolent, I would have been much angered. Yet you speak truth, so I shall give you my word upon Orthanc, the Spire of Isengard."  
  
Slowly, slowly, the figures emerged from shadow. Proud yet cautious they were as they filed past the figure. Power radiated from him, and it was the power that chased the darkness away from Adariel's heart. She had said no word in the exchange, and her eyes were bright as she watched all that went on before her, yet powerless she was to move.  
  
Gimli came last out, and as he walked past, he made a move to spit at the feet of Curunir. The white figure was too quick and stepped aside at surprising speed. His staff clanged on the floor as it was whipped aside with its owner.  
  
"Fear not!" said Curunir quietly. "All shall be revealed to you, for I think it is safe to speak truth in these halls, for now."  
  
Before any of the company had time to move, there came a rush of wind from nowhere that threw the hood off the white figure and swept the cloak back to reveal dazzling white robes that were of the same craftsmanship of the cloaks that they bore from golden Lorien  
  
"Mithrandir!" Legolas cried, but the exclamation stopped, stillborn. The wizard frowned at him, and his eyes were glittering.  
  
"Gandalf!" Gimli said more quietly and shook his head. "We thought you lost in Moria when you fell into the shadow of Khazad-Dum!"  
  
"Gandalf…" the wizard looked unseeing for a moment. "Gandalf…yes, yes. I was called Gandalf, once. And I shall be Gandalf once more." His eyes cleared and he looked at them, one by one, as a smile broke from his lips.  
  
"Tarry not!" Gandalf said. "There is much to be done! Alas, for the treason not only of Isengard but of Lakewood, or Morladris as I shall call it by the name it bears in Shadow. Yes, in shadow…" here his gaze fell briefly on Adariel before it flittered away again as if caught by some unnoticed detail.  
  
"Of the Halflings…" Boromir started, startling Adariel for he stood behind her.  
  
"Yes, yes, if it comforts you to know that they are in good company then I shall confirm it to be so. Time is heavy on my mind. Depart, we must! Speak not, and follow me!" Gandalf wrapped his cloak around him once more and leaned on his staff. "Curunir I shall be until we leave this dreadful place."  
  
They filed past with Gandalf in front and Adariel behind as if escorting the captives. They walked with heavy steps and all who looked upon them felt a stirring of something less than admiration for although darkness confuses all things, proud and great of the free folk were still recognized.  
  
Eltheran met them at the entrance, question in his eyes and a command at his lips but Curunir smote his staff on the floor before him and said not a word. They looked long and hard upon each other until Eltheran's will broke suddenly under the unknown power inside the cloak.  
  
"I take these captives to Orthanc, and I thank you for your tribute," the wizard said, his voice laced with power, commanding.  
  
At these words, Eltheran stirred as if one come out of long and dreamless sleep. "I would gladly give these prisoners to you, if they were mine to give! But they are not, and choice now falls upon my daughter, Adariel. Only at her bidding may I surrender the prize to you."  
  
"But I have given my blessing, and happily," Adariel found herself saying. "May I ask the permission to escort them out of Morladris?"  
  
"If it so pleases you, I should wish to have her with me in Orthanc. I perceive she can be of use to me there," the wizard added.  
  
"I am willing in all services, and in all things," Eltheran said as horror came to him in a cold and bitter storm, "but I am not willing to give the treasure of my kingdom, Curunir of the Wise though you may be. My land is yours, and so are my armies for they obey my orders and if woe befalls them, it is their lot and not mine. But Lady Adariel has a will of her own, and I do not wish to part with her though all the hosts of Mordor and the ancient Morgoth stood in my way."  
  
"Your words will be your doom," the other replied sternly. "Remember them well and when your time comes, they shall bind you."  
  
"I care not." Eltheran replied.  
  
"Have I no say in this?" Adariel cried out, seeing the situation to be desperate. Eltheran turned to her with pleading in his eyes and a voice tinged with not sorrow but anger. His hand reached out to her but she shrank away suddenly, backing a step or two and stopping.  
  
"Beloved of mine," he began, "do you wish to depart with one that you have newly met in the company of none other than these creatures of Good which I have forsaken? For I will not send a host back with Curunir, master though he is."  
  
Then Adariel saw that she could not answer affirmatively without ruining the chance that Gandalf had offered her companions.  
  
"Ye or nay, answer wisely," the wizard said very slowly.  
  
The thought seemed to dawn on the rest of the company, and they eyes were suddenly troubled. Not a word they said yet their manner was angry and their still figures spoke many sentences. Boromir looked sadly at her, and Adariel found that she could not feel his mind any more. The sensation had slipped her mind since the darkness took her, and it had estranged her from Boromir.  
  
Aragorn looked haggard and weary, as if faced with a choice that was not his own. He gazed steadily at her, a half frown on his face as he awaited the answer that he knew she would make.  
  
Gimli was saddened and distressed, as one who would was losing a possession or an ally, but by no accounts excessively distressed.  
  
Legolas, Adariel would not glance to at all although she felt the weight of his gaze upon her and it made her neck prickle. A phantom pressure was on her lips and a slight blush came to her cheeks at the stray memory. It sank deeper into her mind and she remembered how the willow blinds had whipped about behind her and the sounds of the stirring lake had lulled enchantment upon her.  
  
A breath, a sigh, and Adariel looked up straight into they eyes of Eltheran. "I say nay…but give me leave to escort these that I have had for but a while out until I sight takes them from me and they are no more."  
  
"This I grant you, and furthermore for I say that you may journey to the edge of the Fangorn, but no more!" Eltheran said, "but if you were to be taken by those that you escort, then the host of Isengard would be suffer sorely. This I vow upon Morladris itself. A week you have, but no more! I give you more than is needed for I know of your wandering feet."  
  
"I thank you kindly!" Adariel said, half-relieved and half-horrified.  
  
"Not out of the kindness of my heart do I grant you this," Eltheran replied cryptically, and his face was grim.  
  
  
  
  
  
End of Chapter 16  
  
Reviews please! NO FLAMES but constructive criticism is very welcome! –Spirit Star  
  
I've had some people archiving this story, and that's fine as long as you give me the link to your site, and notify me. Thanks for the great emails…they are appreciated and so are the reviews. Thanks, thanks, and thanks again!  
  
Ugh, my holidays are drawing to a close…but hooray for teacher strikes! (Does a little dance) 


	17. Chapter 17: In which dawns a new day

Disclaimer: You know what? I'm soooo sick of the same disclaimer over and over and over…so here goes. Mary had a disclaimer, disclaimer, disclaimer. Mary had a disclaimer which was really long. To read about the disclaimer, disclaimer, disclaimer, to read about the disclaimer, flip back a page!  
  
  
  
  
  
Echoes of the Narbeleth  
  
Spirit Star  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 17: In which dawns a new day  
  
  
  
  
  
There was a gloomy silence that trailed them as they hurried as far away as possible from the pitiful place. The night swallowed them up. It was the third night and they had not stopped to rest, although their pace had slowed considerably due to the heavy weight of sleep pressing on their minds.  
  
With the dawning came the wild spirals of light that valiantly fought its way to the dark floor of the wood. It spun triumphantly then winked out like a candle as they trampled in and out of shadows. Sometimes they heard Gandalf muttering under his breath, shifting slightly off the path or picking up the pace.  
  
Suddenly in the still air of the early morning they found themselves down the bank of the Entwash, and hurried on until they stood upon the grass beyond the eaves of the Fangorn. Then they breathed a sigh of relief, although it was short lived.  
  
"Do they follow?" Boromir asked hoarsely, peering behind him until Aragorn stepped in to block his view.  
  
"Nay," Aragorn said, "but to look back into the dark is folly."  
  
There were no sign of the horses that had mysteriously stolen away into the night, and their spirits dampened a little as they realized that a long and weary walk awaited them.  
  
"A long road indeed," said Gandalf, "but perhaps not as weary just yet." He let out a long high whistle and was still as the others looked about themselves in wonder that such a sound could have come from the old tattered figure in front of them in his ragged traveling cloak.  
  
Three times the whistle came, and three times it faded away into the heavy air. On the third whistle there was a faint far off sound that seemed like the whinny of a horse borne upon the east wind. Time pressed on and they waited. Hoof beats sounded and only Aragorn felt the tremor on the ground as he lay upon it, growing steadier and clearer to a quick consistent beat.  
  
"There is more than one horse coming," said Aragorn.  
  
"Certainly," Gandalf replied. "We are too great a burden for one."  
  
"Three horses," reported Adariel, gazing into the distance. "There is Hasufel and Arod and also another great horse beside him a little in front of Redmark!."  
  
"That is Shadowfax," Gandalf said. He is the chief of the Mearas. The best in the land of Rohan, and he is a great beast that none has looked upon without some admiration. Look how he shines like silver and runs as smoothly and as swiftly as a stream. He has come for me: the horse of the White Rider, and we are going into battle together."  
  
They came, and the great horse was in the lead with his coat glistening and his mane flowing in the wind. The others were now far behind, their strides shorter and without the grace of Shadowfax. As soon as he saw Gandalf, Shadowfax gave a loud whinny and trotted gently forward until he stooped his proud head and nuzzled the old man's neck.  
  
Gandalf caressed him. "It's a long way from Rivendell, my friend," he said; "but you are wise and swift and come at need. We must ride together a long way yet, and may we not part in this world again."  
  
The two other horses came and stood quietly, waiting. "We go to Meduseld, the hall of your master Theoden." Gandalf spoke to them gravely and they arched their heads. "Time presses and we will ride. We beg you to use all the speed that you can. Hasufel shall bear Aragorn, and Gimli shall ride with me."  
  
"Now I understand the riddle from the night some days back," said Legolas as he sprang lightly onto Arod's back. "Whether they fled at first in fear, or not, our horses met Shadowfax who is their chieftain and greeted him in joy."  
  
"Ah, but there is one horse short for the number of our company," Boromir said. "Or at least, one horse short than there were that started upon this dark road."  
  
"Perhaps," Gandalf answered, "but I do not know of it. I do not take a count of the mounts you choose to bring with you. Take heart, for this is the time to ride forth. To Eudoras! To Eudoras!" And Gandalf slipped lightly onto Shadowfax, who reared up and tossed his proud head.  
  
As Adariel watched the men mount up and shorten the stirrups, she said, "This is where our road parts, and I wish you safe journey. Sweet it was when first we met, but bitter now must be our parting. Ride to Eudoras or where you may, and swiftly for you have no errand to keep you in this part anymore."  
  
They all turned and looked down at her, standing tall and grim. Their eyes spoke of their disbelief and confusion.  
  
"Surely you do not speak of returning!" Legolas cried, regret and horror lodging in his throat.  
  
"I do; I must," she said curtly.  
  
"You speak as one who is mad with fever…or something more." Aragorn said, shaking his head. "What trickery is this? Why do you not ride with us?"  
  
"Leave her be," said a strong voice, and it was Gandalf who spoke. "There is a will here that is beyond our understanding, and we must away! To Eudoras, I say, and to Eudoras our road leads us. Away Shadowfax, away!"  
  
Swift was Shadowfax to stir, and swift he was in his stride. The stallion flew like a streak of white and Gandalf did not look back. One by one, the men lingered eyeing the still figure on the ground before then, and led by Boromir, they all wheeled their steeds and gave a kick, galloping away after Gandalf.  
  
Last to leave was Legolas who gave her a look that for a moment, made Adariel feel like the tides of the sea had pulled back towards the moon.  
  
"You know I like it not that you remain here in this dark place," he whispered urgently. "Why do you stay?"  
  
"I cannot say," she answered, "but that my words bind me here, and something more. Already it is pulling me bodily back."  
  
Then he looked long into her eyes and leant down swiftly as if to kiss her, but she stepped away, albeit somewhat regretfully. "Go, for Shadowfax is a great steed and he carries your guide swiftly away. You are needed elsewhere."  
  
Unsaid words and meanings passed between them, until Adariel looked away. And then he was gone, the echoes of Gandalf's words in his head and the sound advice pressing down his worries.  
  
He did not look back, and perhaps it was lucky he did not for he would have seen the figure behind him collapse to the ground in weariness.  
  
  
  
  
  
Things began to grow gray when Gandalf rode away on Shadowfax, and Adariel felt the new clarity in thought begin to ebb away. Slowly, the gradual pounding in her head grew in volume, consuming her mind and bending it into one thought: return.  
  
But as she fought the battle inwardly, she could feel herself losing, slipping away into the dark pool that awaited her. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes until she was consumed by the darkness, choosing to face it on her own terms. A headache swelled, one that she was not used to as she was unused to being ill. Her heart missed a beat.  
  
She fell on her side, and the darkness deepened as she hit the ground.  
  
  
  
  
  
It was the calling of the night that woke her; the darkness was like daylight to her. She stood, unaware that she had done so and her feet carried her almost automatically back to the forest edge that she had just broken out of. She could hear the flow of the Entwash but could not see it.  
  
There were no shadows, nor was there a moon. Adariel did not know where she was walking to and did not care for she felt in her heart the pulling of the destination. There was an urge to follow orders. She walked on blindly, unseeing and unheeding. The trees called out to her, but she did not hear them, and the sun burnt her. She walked on.  
  
The seventh morning dawned when she arrived undisturbed at the gate to Morladris. It was tended by two orcs, both grunting in the new-risen sun.  
  
There was an odd silence about that was confusing. It seemed that there was nobody on the other side of the gates for there was no sound of clanging metal, nor heat radiating from the fires that were never put out. A cool breeze from the north swept down to her, and all was still.  
  
The gates swung open, and the guarding orcs snorted.  
  
It was almost empty, and the steps were stamped with undisturbed footprints in the dark. Adariel did not stop to think; she could not focus her mind on anything for long periods of time. The confusion registered, but just barely. Abandoned workstations and a few laboring elves stopped to glare at her.  
  
Still undisturbed, and partially unnoticed, she stopped at the main building, eyes gazing up at the small window on the highest floor and shuddering. The doors were already open. She stepped in, and took a minute to get used to the gloom. The inner chambers were closed off, and there were no guards at the door, nor was there any sound from the armory.  
  
Physically, she had to push the heavy metal doors of the throne room open. They didn't budge. She tried again, calling on a little of her unnatural strength that the darkness offered. The doors creaked open a little at a time, and slowly she entered into the slight gap that she had laboriously managed to create.  
  
The door slammed shut with a clang. The darkness set in. Nobody was inside.  
  
There was logic enough left in Adariel to realize that she was actually stuck, as the main doors opened from the outside, and she did not know how to operate the newly crafted side entrances. She stood dumbly and waited, although she did not know what it was she was waiting for.  
  
The air grew thicker as it swirled about like a trapped animal.  
  
A footstep in the dark, and then another. Adariel's eyes cleared a little. There was a figure pacing up and down, then stopped to stare at Adariel before moving on. The figure was hunched, wearing shabby clothes. He paused for another moment, then stopped and finally addressed the feminine figure standing in front of the door.  
  
"Yes?" Urogkuul growled, spittle flying.  
  
"Where is the master of Morladris?"  
  
"He has fled away," Urogkuul smirked. "He is hidden somewhere in this place, and you shan't find him."  
  
"Shan't I?" Adariel said flatly. The conversation seemed rather pointless to the ordinary bystander, but inside a war was waging. A twist, a pull, and the battle of wills engaged once more. One blackness threatened to swallow the other, and engulf it into the masses of darkness at the bidding of Sauron, the master.  
  
"You shan't," Urogkuul replied.  
  
"I shall leave to start my search immediately then," Adariel said forcefully, breaking free of the war and looking for a way out.  
  
"I think not," the orc laughed cruelly. "Truly Elf. Do you think you can bend the will of the Dark Lord who sees all in his tower in Barad-Dur? Give in, give in!"  
  
The small knife she carried was unsheathed. The sound echoed in the large chamber. She had been given a modified version of an orkish blade when she had started out, but she had exchanged it for an elven knife on her short journey out. "Who speaks through you?" she cried.  
  
"There will be ones that will replace me," Urogkuul gave a twisted grin in answer, gazing at the slight glow of the blade as the light rays desperately reflected off it. The orc drew his own blade, a dark and angled blade wrought of a foreign metal. He was not in armor, and his cat like eyes glowed in the darkness. For a breath, there was no movement in the room. The air was still, listening.  
  
The orc gave a shriek and pounced, dark blade slashing unseen in the dark. Its color bled into the gloom. The clash was not the crisp, sharp sound of forced combat, but more of a hollow jarring sound and harsh to the ear. Adariel winced as the unnatural impact sent shockwaves through her arm. She was not used to swordplay.  
  
Parry after parry, the orc advanced as Adariel backed, wishing that she had her bow and cursing her stupidity earlier. Suddenly, the wall was blocking her way, and she quickly ducked a hard blow and there came a ringing sound as metal struck metal.  
  
Taking advantage of the momentary shock, she thrust forward and balanced her weight on her front leg and nearly blindly, felt the blade go through something soft. There was a silence, then Adariel dropped the knife and the body fell loosely on the floor with a soft thud. The hilt glowed a little, and then there was no light in the room.  
  
There was a slight dent in the wall next to the door, where the misguided blade had hit, and it was slight enough to uncover a little of the edge of the shut door. The darkness gave no clue of the time as Adariel worked away, trying to pry the door open with the tips of her fingers.  
  
Despite the shape of her long, slender fingers it was needless to say that the door did not budge.  
  
There was a dark pool of liquid seeping through the edge of the door, and the color was hard to determine. Adariel stepped back to have a closer look at the figure on the floor, wincing slightly as the body twitched out of reflex. There was a jingle that startled her as her foot moved the figure.  
  
It was a set of keys, wrought out some unknown material that glowed in the darkness and resembled silver liquid in its texture. Taking the biggest key and fitting it into one of the side entrances, she was not surprised to find herself suddenly facing an opening and a rush of fresh air.  
  
Adariel did not tarry any longer in the gloomy hall, and she felt something tugging at her oath, pulling her along and dragging her as though she was bound by an invisible chain. Curious to see where she would end up, Adariel followed, allowing for the time being for the shadows to take over her conscience and her mind to float dreamily.  
  
There was a general air of impatience and change in the air as though something was lacking or there was a great tide about to sweep through the crevice. The emptiness settled in the depths of Morladris and would not leave. A strange and heavy silence hung in the air like a warning.  
  
The elves and orcs left behind paid her no heed but there was open hostility between the two parties. The elves that were left were the working ones who had refused to convert and had each pledged oath to Elbereth and the powers in the West.  
  
The dark oath pulled her past them, past the occasional fighting that broke out and past the heat of the fires that burnt on. It was nearly dawn. She could feel it, rather than see it. The winding tunnel that she had used so oft loomed ahead. It was unguarded, and the torches had been left unattended and burning low. The graying light canceled the firelight and the tunnel was dark.  
  
She was familiar, almost, with the steps having once counted them on her first visit. They lead her upwards, the red earth rustling occasionally and shuffling angrily at the disturbance.  
  
The trees met her in silence. There was no greeting. The grass was silent, their tinkling voices barred. The willow tree moaned, but was still.  
  
She pulled her conscience together and looked around through her own eyes. The willow moaned again and this time Adariel recognized it as a warning. A clue. Pushing aside the image of two shadowy figures locked in a kiss through the wispy hanging strands; she made out a lone, male shape with one hand against the trunk of the willow staring out at the lake.  
  
"Father?" she called softly.  
  
Eltheran made a slight gesture in acknowledgment but said nothing. Adariel stepped forward and pulled the curtain of willow strands aside and saw that he was standing half in and half out of the curtain of leaves, gazing out at the lake.  
  
"Ada?" she called again.  
  
"Don't come any closer," he said, and Adariel was surprised to hear that his voice had changed. Or rather, there was something about his tone that had changed. It sounded hollow, emptier and there was an element that she could not quite name.  
  
She stepped closer cautiously, ignoring his command and a question half formed on her lips but it was cut short when Eltheran started speaking in a soft, low voice.  
  
"All that once was is lost," he murmured, "and cannot be regained. It is my doing, and I take it upon myself to see things right. But I cannot. The forces move in. Saruman has started his march. Sauron has sent the Nine out far into the West of Middle Earth away from their source. And yet I broke my pledge to Gil-galad who has fled to Mandos."  
  
He suddenly spun around, and Adariel's eyes widened in apprehension. She could see the glimmer of madness floating in and out of sight in his eyes. His face looked suddenly a little more haggard, although it retained its agelessness. He looked almost physically old and spent. Mortal, almost.  
  
"Tell me why I did this," his said to her directly, his stare piercing. "Tell me!"  
  
She opened her mouth, took a step back and straightened. No sound emitted from her and she was at a loss for words. There was no fear in her. Her oath had been kept and now the ties that bound her had been broken although the darkness had not yet left. If she must, then she was able to flee.  
  
"Tell me!" he shouted the phrase.  
  
"You know I cannot."  
  
"Very well," he whipped around and faced the still lake again. "Then I shall tell you. Come closer."  
  
She hesitated and a faltering rustle disturbed the grass.  
  
"Closer!" he said, resignedly.  
  
Hesitant and cautious like a doe, she stepped softly until she was just to the side of him, looking out at the lake. A breeze disturbed the cold water. A ripple danced across its surface. The early light of near-dawn drew across the water. Out of the corner of her eye, she chanced a look at his face. It was closed, and his eyes were far away in an empty place although they were fast coming back into focus. She drew her gaze back across the brooding trees in the distance that had been left undisturbed.  
  
"Very well," she said. "Tell me. Start with Morladris. Tell me why you became one of the Oath-Breakers. Tell me why you ruined the great halls and turned your back upon your kindred. Our kindred. Tell me why you have turned onto the path of darkness."  
  
"The easiest question first," he answered. "The answer is simple: it was because of you."  
  
"Me?" she gasped, and spun around to face him. "You lie." Her gaze narrowed.  
  
"I speak truth."  
  
Adariel shook her head in reply, but disbelief melted into acceptance and after a moment, she said wearily, "Why?"  
  
"Why? Another simple question. You ran away in ignorance not knowing what was going on. Partially my own fault of course, and I do repent most dearly for it. But you did not know of Saruman's movements in the South nor Sauron's in the East. You would be captured, I knew, and tortured. It is the way of Saruman to do this, and only alliance could solve the problem." Here he stopped and turned to look Adariel in they eye.  
  
"So you see…" he paused, then seemed to reword his sentence. "I did this out of love for you. And now as you might have noticed, the city is empty because of Saruman's demand for an army to march with his own. He senses some trouble stirring."  
  
"No," she said. "You cannot have done all this because of love of me."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"What sort of love have you for me, then?" she demanded in anger. "To love me so much as to be a traitor to all that I love, to bring me onto the road that is cast with shadows!"  
  
"'Do not add salt to the wound!" Eltheran cried, madness overtaking him and the glint widening in his eyes. In a movement faster than Adariel could determine, he drew his sword, which he had by his side and held the blade towards her.  
  
Adariel gasped, and took a step backwards. There seemed a stillness that settled over the living things. The grass ceased to rustle. The wind paused and stared. The water drew back into its depths.  
  
Eltheran smiled a strange smile. "To Mandos I will flee, and if not there, then to the Path of the Dead where the Oath-Breakers lie."  
  
Then he fell, the blade buried in his stomach. A dark patch of red seeped through his silken robes and grew larger, but the light of his eyes had not diminished into a stare. Adariel rushed to his side, tears stinging her eyes but more from shock than the deed itself.  
  
A hand cupped her face.  
  
"Head North to Imladris," Eltheran gasped, eyes widening with the pain. "There is one who will help you there…there is much that I have hidden from you."  
  
"Hush," Adariel whispered, "I know what it is you would say. Galadriel has told me so."  
  
"Galadriel!" Eltheran whispered. "How I long to see her face for she reminds me so in face of Celebrian…as you do."  
  
"It can not be…" Adariel said, grasping the meaning of his words in a sudden rush of understanding.  
  
"Yes," Eltheran gasped bitterly. "My doom is the bitter life of the three who have suffered before me; loving the one who they cannot have. Which is why I took…"  
  
His next words were indistinguishable. He coughed blood, and started again. "Which is why I took you…to at least have a part of something, someone, that I so longed for. Do you know what it is like to have to admire and dote from a distance, to watch them lavish love upon some other body other than yourself?"  
  
He gave her no time to respond as another coughing fit overtook him. "Take…your knife…and end it for me…"  
  
"No!" Adariel cried, tears flowing from her face. "You will heal. You will live to fix this."  
  
What could have been a harsh laugh escaped from his pale lips, "No…it is too late…for me. But you…" then, "End it now…if you have ever loved me as a father…I beg you…do this for me…"  
  
He closed his eyes and shivered.  
  
Crying freely, Adariel drew her knife and leaned forward she could whisper in his ear: "Only out of love that I once have, and perhaps still have for you do I do this. Mandos calls and if you do not make it there, wait you on the Pathways of the Dead until you may be called for again."  
  
The knife buried itself in his heart. Eltheran managed half a smile before his body relaxed and fell back onto the bloodstained patch of grass near him. The silence and stillness lifted. The wind blew. The trees rejoiced as discreetly as possible in the manner of green things. The grass sang. The willow tree stirred in its induced slumber and wove its leaves in patterns. And the wind kissed the lake water.  
  
Adariel sobbed long and freely, her body heaving and wishing for arms to hold her and lips to kiss away her grief but she knew that they were far away. It was early morning when the remaining people in Morladris perceived a tall, graceful feminine figure emerging from the long dark tunnel leading upwards. There was no trace of tears in her blue-gray eyes. Instead, they were clear and sharp and more focused: for when the darkness of night had faded away with the morning, so had the darkness that that in despair had bound her.  
  
She was free from a weight that she had unconsciously carried when her very first footfall had echoed in proud Morladris. All traces of it had withdrawn itself and fled east to the Land of Shadows. A faint glow of sunlight bravely snaked its way and lit the ground that had bled long and hard.  
  
But all was not the same for the times were still filled with darkness and the pathways paved with secrets. So although freedom came to Adariel and lit her fair Elven features with a secret light that resided in all Free Folk who fought against the powers of the East, there arose in her the terrible and powerful lust for the sea and the undying lands of the West.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
1.1 End of Chapter 17  
  
Reviews please! NO FLAMES but constructive criticism is very welcome! –Spirit Star  
  
  
  
Hey, this is not the end…sheesh. If you thought that was the end, then you must have had some crazy misconceptions when reading the original title of this story, which was Legolas and Adariel. If you haven't spotted a difference, I've changed it (the title I mean). I guess I should have told y'all that it was just a space filler (oooops naughty me).  
  
Can somebody PLEASE tell me how to do italics if you don't want to convert documents to Htm form?????  
  
And if you're wondering about the title, Narbeleth means Sun-waning, which is the same as Firith, or Fading in Sindarin. Which is a season between Autumn and Winter. 


	18. Chapter 18: In which it is a Good Mornin...

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Disclaimer: The disclaimer here is that I'm sick of repeating myself…you've probably memorized it already anyway. The whole point of putting the word DISCLAIMER here is to remind you to recall it from the depths of your memories to save me time from putting it into sentences. 

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Echoes of the Narbeleth

Spirit Star

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Chapter 18: In which it is a Good Morning

The slaughtered bodies of the orcs were piled and burnt, although the remaining trees shrunk back in fear. Of course they used the deadwood left over from the last burning, but as the smoke billowed and the foul stench of burnt flesh wafted up skywards, the faces of all present were grim. 

It was the elves who looked gloomily into the dying fire. It was early night, and the sky was barely visible through the clearing smoke. Slowly, the flame died down and a few embers carelessly glowed in the induced darkness. The figures stood still until one looked expectantly at a figure who stood a little detached from the rest, hugging herself lightly in the lonely cold; the fires for melding had been put out.

As if suddenly aware that eyes were upon her, Adariel looked up suddenly. Then, as one who had suddenly freed herself from a dream, she stirred and looked about with wide eyes as she took in the damage thoroughly as if for the first time. There was silence as one by one, the elves followed her gaze and stared in disbelief at the scene surrounding them. 

The battle had been short, but grim for the elves who had fought against the orcs were on the most part unarmed as they were laboring elves. They themselves were blood-soaked and weary and most wished for the trance-like sleep that took them upon the roads of dream. 

The roads had been trampled and ruined, and most of the buildings had been torn apart, including the Great Hall. It lay in ruins in a heap of useless metals and dark shadows had fled in terror from the wrath of the elves. The red earth had taken a rusty hue as if soaked with blood. Nothing could live in the ruined valley on its free will. 

"We must first send the dead off in a manner fit for them." It was Adariel's voice that brought them back from their disbelieving meditation. She was looking at the slain bodies of her kindred that they had carefully laid gently on a dry patch of ground. 

The carried the dead to the lake and laid them on the grassy banks of the water. 

"Time is short," Adariel sighed. "Although we cannot sail them into the West, we must hope that at least the waters of this lake can comfort them." Then as an afterthought, she added, "I mân an Mandos garo drego."

The dead were sent into the lake and they watched as the water swallowed them lovingly and held them in its embrace. There was just one more body to be taken. Adariel motioned for some help and together they dragged Eltheran's body to the water's edge. Somehow a peaceful smile had settled itself upon his lips. 

There were some present who drew back, and some who muttered "Elbereth!" under their breath. Adariel looked at them sharply, and annoyance flashed in her eyes but she said, "I do not begrudge your dislike for this soul for he has wronged you. But the dead must be laid at rest, and so they shall." 

The lake water swallowed the body silently. 

As one, they moved and out to the ruins of Lakewood-Morladris and once again looked mournfully upon the ruined place although no regret touched their hearts. The beauty of the once-tall Lakewood had diminished into nothingness. None who beheld it wished to stay any longer. 

"Whither to?" they asked one another. 

"Imladris," a voice answered.

"To the city of the Galadhrim…long fabled," Another said.

They were a divided people, estranged from one another. It hurt the silent observer's heart to see her own people in such a way. It would be inevitable, of course, that each would go their separate way to whichever city they longed as their own. They tried to convince one another to join them, although each heart was set upon a destination already. 

Sorrowful voices rose until a farewell lament started, and then died again. 

"Enough!" Adariel said for the first time debate had risen. "We are a separated people, and will be no more nor shall meet again for a while until the Undying Lands greet us. Then perhaps we shall recount these times as a mere past memory. But now each of us must make our own choice according to the wishes of our hearts. Who will head to Imladris?"

Most of the group stood to a side, nodding their heads in agreement.

"And you must be the ones who desire fair Lorien," Adariel acknowledged the remaining elves, regarding each in silent contemplation as she remembered Galadriel and the light in her city. At last she gave them a small, satisfied smile. 

"Take what is at hand, and we shall leave under the cover of night under the stars of Elbereth. Stay a little while for farewell and look for me with the rising moon at the gate of this place. Are there horses left with us?"

Someone went to look and brought back seven white horses whose eyes were rolling in terror. They were calmed, and Adariel allotted five to the group who were heading to Imladris and two to the smaller group who would go to Lorien. They all separated then, to find things that would be needed for the trip, and weapons to defend themselves if need be. 

The moon rose, and they were back and the broken gates that lay in a clatter on the bare ground, each with a weary look at the other and a sad smile or a laugh issuing after. The last of them appeared and they formed their traveling parties. The weak on the horses and the rest on foot, they stood and faced their old city for the last time, most regarding it as an artist would regard a ruined piece of work. 

Then they turned back to the North one by one. 

"You know that they would most likely be under attack," Adariel said. They nodded slowly, looking uneasily at the young elf who stood calmly facing them, the light of freedom shining pale through her manner and a wisdom that was not hers to carry in her eyes. 

"You know your ways, do you not?" the figure said with a smile. The nodded, and she continued, "Then there must only be one thing left to be said before we part. To you of Imladris, I beg you to tell Lord Elrond that all is well, and to you of Lorien, I beg you to tell the Lady that the Mirror had proved false, at least for the time being."

Another wave of agreement, and they looked ruefully at one another as they turned to head their separate ways North. Suddenly, one turned back. It was an elf that looked familiar somehow and part of the group heading to Imladris. "You will stay hither?" 

They all stopped and turned to look at her. Already she was far behind. They fancied a strange smile lit her lips when a small voice traveled to them, "No," it said half to itself. "I will head…south."

When she was sure they were safely on their way, Adariel looked back at the still form of Morladris. An eerie birdcall echoed through the night; it was an owl of some sort. Suddenly, the empty space seemed to fill with a presence and she sensed that creatures were moving this way. It was time to go. 

She began to run south, jumping over the fallen logs and breaking into the trees. They were silent as they regarded her, and she groaned half to herself when she remembered that trees were slow forget and slow to forgive. It may be another thousand autumns before one would even regard her civilly. With trees, acts of forgiveness were not automatic, but considered then granted. 

It grew slightly lighter as she fled out of the Fangorn, the trees opening to grassy ground and dirt patches near the Entwash. Then suddenly the tree line stopped and she was out in open ground again, gazing out toward the faint signs of distant mountains. 

It looked to be a long trek. She took a big breath and put one foot in front of the other. After all, the longest journeys started with a single step…still, she couldn't help but wonder somewhat bitterly what happened to her horse. There was wind about the flat land and the constant sound of water running in the distance. It felt strangely good to walk alone once more, without the added stress of being watched. 

But it did not escape her that she was walking into the very mouth of danger. Fleeting glimpses of dark places came to her mind, and stooping shadows sometimes prowled on open roads in daylight, and shadows in starlight took on beasts that lurked behind imposing nooks. 

Soon, she knew she would at least be spotted; there was no hiding in open ground. 

It was a full day before she spotted the first patrol galloping hurriedly north some way away, out of the sight of Men, heading for the Isen. She stopped to watch them as they reared their steeds and let the beasts rake the air before journeying onward. She remained standing after they had long gone out of her sight, pondering and musing, wondering what their manner meant and the events surrounding it. 

The north wind followed her as she picked up her pace on her road south. 

She was stopped by riders in sight of Musefield. They had a different look upon their faces, less weary than Eomer's _eored _but instead were grim and unforgiving. There were less of them, and their mounts paced impatiently beneath them for they were heavy men and the horses were less in strength than the long distance riders. 

"Halt!" they called to her and immediately surrounded her in a circle, their spears pointing toward her in every direction and arrow-tips glinting in the pale sun. "Who art thou and what is thy business?"

"I have to see the Lord of Rohan," she said. "Time is very short and I must get to the safety of your halls."

"We will not let you pass, for fear that you are a shadow creature. Do you not know that the shadow in the East looms over us and the cries from Isengard come ever closer?" 

"I know this, but I will say that I mean no harm in your country."

"What is thy business here, and what is thy name? You have told us naught of what we asked."

"I am looking for the rest of my company, and my name is my own."

They stared wondering at her and some let a smile out the corner of their lips. It became quite clear soon that she would not volunteer any information other than what she had already told them. 

"You will be a prisoner, not a guest, if you do not answer us in a fashion that we may feel safe with," they warned her. 

"But I _have_ answered you," she said and looked up, knowing what a sight she must be in worn and bloodied clothing. Her cloak shifted slightly from her shoulders revealing a few golden strands of hair that flickered silver in the pale light. 

They hardy men looked skeptical as they muttered in their own tongue to each other solemnly and flickered their gaze occasionally on the strange visitor. She waited patiently, letting her mind drift a little to warmer places and fonder memories. 

The voices raised slightly, then dimmed to a hush as they all nodded to each other with some looking unsure and doubtful. 

"We will take you to the Lady who rules in her the king's absence," one said to her. "She is of great blood and will know what to do with you."

"That is well," Adariel said, smiling and rousing to join them. "It is what I have wanted all along, to see the great lady in this fair country."

"Pretty words do not cloud our judgment," they said in answer and then brought her up in front of one of the riders on a rusty battle horse who looked worn from memories. It stumbled a little in surprise at the new load, then straightened proudly and bore the new weight with dignity. 

Knowledgeable feet take the fastest road, as they say, and the companies of riders were indeed at the door of the Golden Hall by the sun-set. 

The warm water lapped gently at her throat, and Adariel let herself float up a little to savor the warmth and luxury of the long dreamt of bath. She batted at the water with her hands wistfully, thinking of the lake where she used to play in left far behind in its lonely place haunted by the spirits of the unfortunate. 

Suddenly, the hay-scented water lost its warmth. 

The handmaidens were waiting on the other side of the screen and their shadows shifted slightly as they noticed that their charge had finished bathing and the gown that their Lady had sent had disappeared from its position hanging over the top of the blinds. 

It was Deep Night, and they did not object nor fuss when Adariel stepped gingerly out dressed in the gowns that the women of Rohan wore that was suited more to work than admiration although the design was admirable in many different ways. 

The bath was taken away by the sleep deprived servants to be drained.

"Lady Adariel?" Éowyn called from the door that had been left open after the bath was carried away. "Would you honour me with a walk underneath the stars on this sleepless night?"

"The honour is all mine and more so," Adariel answered in a courteous tone, having just finished the braiding of her hair. "Have you any news?"

"I'm afraid not," Éowyn answered sadly, "All we can do is wait. The scouts have told us that there is silence from the borders that way, and the smoke has died down."

The look on Éowyn's face caused Adariel to flinch. It was a mixture between anger, anxiety and restlessness and a little bit of something else that made her suspect that something in her companion's heart was not at peace. Saying nothing, Adariel followed her host up a spiral of stairs that lead to the open upper sentry stands of the Great Hall. 

"Come," Éowyn said without looking behind her, "this is where I stand when I watch for them." 

It was like a window to the lands north, although it only showed the northern territory of Rohan. There were the soft stars that melted in and out of the velvet blackness and the mellow moonlight that parted in beams through a hazy storm of clouds. 

"Rohan is truly a majestic place," Adariel commented. 

"Rohan is honoured," Éowyn answered absently, her eyes glazed and staring into the direction of Isengard and toward the Gap of Rohan and Helm's Deep where the smoke had indeed cleared and the red glow of dying fires were absent. The silent landscape unnerved Adariel for she had never thought of living things as ever silent. It felt so still and even the wind did not chatter as it usually did on clear nights. 

Éowyn was as still as stone. 

Thinking back, Adariel was again surprised at how the Lady of Rohan had been indifferent her sudden presence from the start. It was as if she had been foretold. And by who? _Mithrandir, Gandalf? Surely not!_ Adariel mused. Her companion shifted her weight and continued her vigil. 

Cold was the comfort offered in Éowyn's face. It was both thoughtful and blank, emotionless and sorrowful; terrible and radiant. There was a person that Éowyn searched for, she knew. But the silence was like a tide that toiled between the two figures, and not a word was said. 

Sweeping her eyes across the landscape, Adariel sighed deeply and drew her eyes back up toward the moon, sailing slowly across the sky. It reminded her of the sun-waning, now fading into the velvet setting. The great tides would fall and bow to its command. 

A movement to her left chased her vision back to the near distance. It was Éowyn, squinting a little into the distance having not moved from the stance that Adariel had last seen her in. 

"Come advise me, friend," her host said urgently. "What is it that you see?"

Following the direction of Éowyn's gaze, Adariel tried to shrug off the shadows of the night and peer into the dim pools of moonlight. At first she saw nothing but a ring of soft starlight being chased across the hoof beaten ground. Slowly, however, the tall figures of trees melted to reveal swift movement. 

It was a rider. 

Behind him came another, and then a third. And perhaps a fourth, but Adariel had turned back into the eager face of the Lady of Rohan. She paused to catch her breath at the intensity of the gaze she was given, and smiled. 

"Is it true?" Éowyn wondered.

"Yes," Adariel laughed. "The wanderers have returned and the birds flown back south…perhaps it will be a good morning after all."

Together, The Lady of Rohan and her fair guest departed in eager anticipation of the coming of Arien's chariot. 

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End of Chapter 18

Please don't kill me (please?) –Spirit Star


	19. Chapter 19: In which there is grey

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Disclaimer: Does anybody EVER read the disclaimer anyway??? Oh, and for the sake of legal practice: I own nothing that Tolkien owns and he owns nothing that I own. 

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Echoes of the Narbeleth

Spirit Star

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Chapter 19: In which there is grey

The dawn came above the clouds; thick and gray they were, like new-spun material that shimmered and shrank. They could see but little of the sun, so high it was above the weathering clouds. The morning gave way to early noon, then to high noon. There was no sign of the company passing, and they could but guess that their delay had been short and purposeful. 

For Adariel's part, she was growing uneasy. In her heart she felt an unsettling as if something out of the depths of the world was out of tune. Constantly, she looked to the north, then to the east as if hoping to see a sign or at least a vision of some danger, but none came. The grass was silent, as were the bitter birds, fleeing the West. 

"What troubles you, Lady Friend?" her host had once asked, coming out of her trance to question her guest. 

"I fear I do not know," Adariel had answered regretfully. "It has naught to do with this place, nor anything to do with the south. Perhaps the West is rising; I do not know."

"Do not busy your heart over such matters," Eowyn had replied calmly. "Trouble comes from the Seen, not the Unseen as we often say in Rohan. You may see far away into the distance yet not pay enough heed as to when a stallion runs you down in rampage." *

"Alas," Adariel had smiled, "I should think I lack such practical sight."

The full morning drew to a close, and early afternoon approached rapidly. On advice, Eowyn had quickly gathered a small party to ride swiftly to Dunharrow before nightfall to meet the approaching company. Horses were saddled with great speed, and a small group of guards and riders assembled to meet their Lady. 

Eowyn grimaced slightly as she was handed upon a carefully groomed mare, shifting as the horse danced under her and skillfully bringing it into its reins. Adariel had been handed an unsaddled horse with dusky speckles across its hindquarters. It reared and pawed at the cooling air in annoyance, rolling its eyes. 

The North Wind was at their backs as they galloped on. It was not too long a ride, scaled by skilled people of Rohan in less than half a day through short cuts here and there. Icy mountain air drew on rosy cheeks and shining eyes of all present in the group, and Adariel thought she had never seen a mortal as fair as the Lady of Rohan on a horse. So graceful was she that it seemed at times that she had simply melted into the animal she rode. 

They halted before darkness fell, and settled in haste. The kitchen-minders had been notified earlier and there was great commotion about them as they dismounted and gathered themselves into some order. 

Eowyn seemed in a distant state of mind, and allowed herself to be led off to be changed and washed, and expressed wishes for Adariel to do so also. Unable to argue against so reasonable an offer, she did just so, donning on a temporary working dress that the Rohan women wore. It was a fine riding gown, layered with dark red and hemmed with galloping horses most suited to the Mark. 

The darkness slowly fell, and they waited. 

Perhaps it was the night, or perhaps it was the fragrant chill wind of the mountains or the distant feel of Snowbourn running swiftly, but the mood grew reflective as the household waited for the Grey Company to arrive. 

Thoughts seemed to expand and cross the gap to sub consciousness then to conscious thought. There were dark ones and light ones, memories that slipped like silver fish and musings that ate away at all directive thinking. 

For Adariel, perhaps quite unfortunately, all of them seemed to fly around inside her all at the same time. She thought about wisdom decided that she herself had not enough of it to comfortably call herself Wise amongst elves, but more of experience to call herself older than others of her age. 

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But was it the right kinds of experience? She wondered uncomfortably, eyes closing solemnly as if searching inwardly for an answer. She would imagine Lady Arwen in her mind laughing and dancing about in the valley of Imladris not unlike the Luthien that minstrels so often sing about. Not that she had any real image of Arwen, but she knew that she was so fair as to be called Undomiel by her people. 

But Adariel had never been in mind to dance and sing under trees, however many there had been in Lakewood. Nor could she remember her life in Imladris where she thought it ought to be happy and restful, a pretty place indeed for an elf child to spend their days. 

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Has that spoiled me? She wondered, suddenly uncomfortable. She felt suddenly out of tune with the world and the people in it, as if something drew her out of her body and pulled her to the West and the Undying Lands. So great was her desire for the sea that she felt her heart flutter with the tide as the moon drew it about. 

Was she happy? Adariel mused. 

The question remained unanswered, unfortunately, as heavy hoof beats thundered in the distance, undeniably close at hand. There were occasional shouts coming closer and closer, sounding like commands. None of the mortals present seemed to have heard the calls of the men, but they could feel the ground shaking with the approaching horses. 

Legolas looked back at Gimli, who remained stiff as the horse galloped faster, sensing that it was near home. The dwarf looked slightly in pain, clinging on tightly as the grey landscape became darker and more forbidding to look at.

"Master Dwarf," he laughed, "I fear that you shall not feel so stout in the morning."

Gimli opened his eyes in protest. "Dwarves," he began, "will always be vigilant in whatever they may choose."

"We shall see, shall we not," Legolas smiled, turning back forward. He had grown fond of his short companion, and supposed enemy. 

Now and then, a rider would ride away from the group to let his mount buck, then rejoin again toward the end of line. The uniformity of the Rangers from the North had surprised him, watching them handle the animals with great respect and love, not unlike a man of Rohan. In daylight they were delightful to observe; they had proud stances and the light in their eyes spoke knowledgeably. 

"What do you see," Gimli suppressed a small groan as the horse hit a rough place. "Are we drawing closer to Edoras?"

"I do not doubt we are," Legolas replied. "But my heart tells me that we shall stop at Dunharrow."

"You are right," Aragorn called from the front, having heard the conversation. "I fear there is still a long road in front of us."

"Dunharrow is but a few miles away," Gimli snorted. "Surely you do not mean to ride to Edoras at nightfall."

"I did not mean the ride to Dunharrow," Aragorn replied grimly. 

"When are they coming?" Eowyn spoke sternly to her scout. "Did you not see them?"

"Nay," the scout replied, "they are coming from the West and with great speed."

"What delays them?" Eowyn cried, getting up from her seat and paced a little before sitting back down. "You said that they would be here by the dusk."

"They may still fulfill that promise," the answer came. "It is not dusk yet."

The darkness was falling when the company spied a lone figure riding out toward them, dark cloak billowing behind. The stallion looked ivory pale in the rough light. The rider rode at great speed and seemed in haste, meeting them about a mile out from Dunharrow. 

"Hail!" Aragorn called, halting and calling the newly met Rangers about him. "Who goes there?"

"The Lady of the Mark," the rider replied, "I am Eowyn of Rohan come to greet weary strangers."

"Lady Éowyn!" Aragorn replied, some surprise in his voice. "An honour it is indeed to be met in such a place at such a time. I had not expected a meeting in person since we left your care."

"A bad host I should be indeed," Eowyn answered, "If I had not met my guests before another departure. I trust you shall stay for a while?"

"Alas," Aragorn frowned. "We will leave in the morning."

"My Lords," Eowyn cried, "The morning is but hours away and the torches are already flickering. Must you go so soon and so ill prepared? How unjust it is to myself if you should leave so suddenly."

"Begging your pardon," Aragorn said politely. "We are at war; time is too short to do justice by."

"I understand," Eowyn said sadly. "But you must rest under our roof tonight, at least. Tomorrow is too soon for parting, but we shall see what we shall see."

"With thanks," Aragorn smiled. "I should be grateful for a night's rest in this fair place."

They rode together, a Lord of Lords and a great Lady at the front, talking quietly together. Gimli and Legolas followed upon Arod followed by the Rangers and lastly the sons of Elrond. They were a strange group, nobly clad yet very grim although the proud light in their eyes seemed to seek through the darkness and search the still landscape continuously. 

"Forgive my asking," Aragorn commented to Eowyn, "but has there been a lady visitor to Rohan recently?"

"I do not speak of others' affairs in our country," Eowyn replied apologetically, "even if the inquisitor is of such fair blood and face."

"She is a friend," Aragorn explained, ignoring the last half of her speech. "I should greatly like to know where she is."

"A lady friend?" Eowyn asked a little coldly.

"A friend of old," Aragorn answered seriously, "whom I am obliged to ask about."

"Well then," Eowyn nodded. "I think I should be permitted to tell you that she was with me in Dunharrow earlier this day, and was still there when I left, although where she is now I cannot say; she was of the race of elves, and if she be your friend, then I should say that she is in no immediate harm."

Aragorn laughed loudly, to his host's surprise. In response to the questioning look she gave him, he replied: "She has a habit, a little strange for her race I should think, of escaping the most unlikely of situations."

"Ah," Eowyn said, then fell silent for they were in sight of the settlement at Dunharrow. The flicker of fire urged their mounts on faster, and they drew closer and closer to the fortress in a short time. It was when they galloped across the last flat plain when there were cries from the Rangers that rode behind. 

They looked about, all of them. The sons of Elrond were alert and sharp eyed, drawing up with Arod and his riders to gaze uneasily into the distance, then back to the distance that they had crossed. At first they spotted nothing, but the sharp eyes of Elrohir found the source of the commotion. 

"There is a light from the tallest building," he said, "that seems to be different from the torch light."

Eowyn strained toward the distant lights. "That would be a strange tale indeed," she muttered. "We have no false lights in Rohan."

"I do not doubt that," Aragorn replied, "but there is one now; see for yourself."

"I see it," Eowyn nodded, "but I know not what it is, or from whence it came."

"There is a tale in elf lore," Elladan said uncertainly, "that Estel may know or he may have forgotten.* Our father knew it well, but would not speak of it. The Firstborn do not fear the Seen, nor the Unseen as they wield great power over them both. Glorfindel, our kindred, is one of them. On this side they are fair to look at, but on the other side they are said to emit a pale glow that frightens the dark servants who travel the Unseen."

Elrohir nodded beside him, continuing. "It has been said however, that when one of our kindred, firstborn or not, suffers enough woe in their lifetime, however long that may be, they too glow the same light on the other side. The dark servants shrink back in fear of it; such sadness travels beyond the hand of even the Dark Lord on his throne in Barad-dur, for it is said that no creature should endure such tragedy even if it is their lot to carry."

"I remember that story well," Aragorn said. "As I remember Lord Elrond looking distant when telling it."

"Alas," Elrohir nodded. "Father knows it too well. He has seen the truth of it at times in his life that he does not wish to be reminded of."

"I too know this tale," Legolas shifted his weight as Arod stamped, not being used to the stillness of movement. "Even in Mirkwood we have seen a few in our time in Middle Earth, or have heard of some."

Aragorn stirred, "Ride on!" he cried and spurred his mount forward toward the settlement, the strange light having disappeared, like the mysterious diamond glints on snow. 

Adariel had seen them coming, from the highest tower she could find. She had observed the meeting of Eowyn and Aragorn with great care and was satisfied with what she saw. Eowyn looked entranced with him, she knew, like a snake to its charmer although the characters they represented were in no way as foul. A passing fancy it was, and she thought that perhaps that Eowyn would someday love another. 

But fate was strange, she acknowledged, and if she should be proved wrong…Adariel shook herself out of her somber mood. It was no affair of hers the hearts of others; although she took to it with a selfish interest, she did not like to meddle, as she lacked the wisdom to foretell the future. 

She had, of course, seen the slight hesitation of the Grey Company as they approached. For a moment she looked out across the hazy land and saw their eyes bore into her and felt a wave of sadness in her heart. Unsure of herself, she could but look back blankly, urging their attention away. 

Now, she stood to attention against the wind along with several other knights and staff of the land of Rohan. They not stationary in the sense that they were idle; their bodies seemed to sway slightly in the wind like young reeds. 

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Soon, Adariel knew. _Mayhap too soon, they shall bring war into this serene place, whether they know it or not. _

Of the reception of the journeying company, I have naught to say except that they were welcomed in a fashion that men returned from battle were received: very gloriously. There were welcomes and good-byes bid to those who rode back to Edoras; there were tears and sad faces. Indeed, there was a lot of food and drink (as much as could be supplied in such a hasty situation).

The horses were treated much like their riders and were fed well and lead to a good night's rest before the morning. However, the celebration did not last as the travel weary company were bid to rest, however reluctantly, for another long adventure the next day. 

Several occurrences, however, did spark some interest in the most observative of watchers. 

The first was the meeting of three elves. There were two, very like in appearance that no mere mortal eye could distinguish them apart, and the beautiful elven stranger who had appeared a day or two ago. Lord Aragorn had introduced them with a slight smile, then left purposefully. There had been a brief silence, followed by shy laughter which quickly turned into warm embraces. 

There were tears in the woman's eyes, at least, for any Man with pride would have turned his back on such a moment. The three elves, it can be said, spent much of the night talking and laughing, being joined by another of their race before the sunrise. 

The second of these, is the curious disappearance of Lord Aragorn. It can be assumed that he had left the elves after introduction, and had participated in food and drink. However, few saw him after and none could say that they had seen him to his sleeping place although he was there the next morning. 

Indeed, Lady Eowyn seemed to have spent much of the night wandering around in search of him before she too disappeared for a time but was back and bid her attendants good-night just before Deep Night. 

The third, and perhaps mots curious, was the meeting of two other elves. As I have explained before, another joined the three meeting elves before early dawn. The fourth was different in movement from the other two, and carried a bow, which he placed by him before the fire. He had grace, and a beauty that was common to all of the fair race in mortal eyes. However, the reaction of the fair lady elf to the newcomer, keenly observed by the two twin elves, was of debatable interest. 

She held herself differently, somehow. There was a glow about her cheeks that was not a maiden's blush, but close to it. The general sadness about her seemed to slither away and be banished into the night. Her eyes shone brightly and her laugh seemed sharper and clearer. 

The change was subtle, that it can be added that the lady herself failed to notice. However, for the two watching elves who looked thoughtful, the change was quite clear. 

As for the fourth elf who had drawn such a reaction from so fair a lady, he himself seemed much accosted to converse solely with her, occasionally asking news of the North from his fellow kinsmen present. He watched the lady ardently; an air of sincerity about his merry-ness and his speech flowed melodiously. 

The conversation flowed until long and before dawn, the two likened elves announced that they had things to attend to, and left with great haste as if sensing something elsewhere that needed seeing to. Of the two remaining elves, I cannot say much; it would have been rude to intrude on their privacy. 

However, I can blandly state that they did fall into silence soon after the two elves left, but then one stood and held his hand to the other, who shyly accepted and placed her hand in it, allowing herself to be pulled up. They stood, side by side and hand in hand before they left, the lady having taken the lord's arm. 

So silent were they in their leaving, that the stable minders could not say that they had heard a sound. But I had the privilege of interviewing some nights-people, and what they said would be of interest to many. Of hoof beats heading to Snowbourne they spoke (but no horses were found missing in the morn) and of running shadows and gay laughter. There were streaks of silver and gold, and the sound of much joy. 

No people they saw, but no proof they needed. "'Tis good to have such lovers' gaiety in the midst of such times, yet 'tis sad that they should be in love for the threat of the East grows more with each passing day. Of their future, and of their endurance…well, we shall see what we shall see."

Yes, indeed. We shall see what we shall see. And of the elf lord and lady I shall say only this: they were both found in the morning directly contradicting the words of they nights-people. They were grim, hard eyed. The air of tragedy had only deepened around the lady. 

We think; we ponder. Ah, yes. We shall see what we shall see. 

****

End of Chapter 19 

*I have used a 'creative license' and added some stuff. 

If you are getting mad at me because I did not describe exactly what happened between two certain elves (actually make that four) don't worry I will in the next chapter. You'll see what I mean when the next chapter comes out…it's a me thing don't worry.

Hey, don't get stress. I hope you liked the Agatha Christie tribute at the end bit (you know it's a little different from my usual style). It's not actually strictly Agatha Christie style, but hey, I tried...and failed probably. Oh well, every author deserves some credit for crap at one time or another. I'm surprised not so many people have jumped on me yet! 

By the by, I hope you know that I _do_ actually go and read your stories give positive feedback if I have time and if I don't I'm really sorry. So if you sign your reviews, I do actually have a little look @ your profile and check out what you guys write although I don't always have time to review. Would you guys like some constructive criticism, Yes or No? Please realize when I criticize, I _really_ criticize and I won't go easy on you! 

Thirdly, I've been a little slack with this chapter as I can't be bothered to add the accents to 'Eowyn' and I am greatly sorry for it as I would trade my current ton of homework for accents on 'Eowyn' any day of my lifetime. Sorry, and I'll make sure I don't leave it out next chapter, okay? 

–_Spirit Star J _


	20. Chapter 20: In which the web floats wide

_Disclaimer: *bangs on bongo drums* yeah I don¡¯t yeah own yeah anything yeah yeah in here that yeah Prof Tolkien yeah owns through yeah his yeah amazing works yeah yeah. _

**Echoes of the Narbeleth**

Spirit Star

**Chapter 20: In which the web floats wide**

_Note: This goes straight into how Adariel met the incoming company¡­ _

There were suddenly too many horses in the small common yard, with mud splashing the eager stable hands generously. It was now the only a few hours before Shallow Night, and a sense of stillness had struck the air, dusk having come and gone. It was the time when, amongst Men, the Good were content and the Bad were restless. 

Adariel sighed as she stared into the crowd of sweating beasts, steam rising out of their glistening bodies, and wondered where their riders were. She had seen them as she had strolled the high fence borders, and had hurried to meet them, but had been late and had misplaced her sight of them. 

The shouts of Men echoed across the yard as many troughs were filled and grateful animals led to a good night's rest in so fitful a camp. She considered climbing a makeshift watch tower, but decided to stay where she was, happy to observe the Men of Rohan as they tended to their horses which in itself was a wondrous thing to see. 

So taken was she by her study that when Aragorn approached her lax form she did not stir, although she gave indication that she had indeed heard his coming. 

"I hope I find you in good health," Aragorn smiled down with a hint of amusement, "although vitality does not seem to me to be something you would lack¡­indeed you have a knack of regaining it from the most unlikely of situations."

"That," Adariel replied, not turning around, "is not always a good thing."

"Many a word the Wise have said about that," Aragorn nodded jovially, "but none of it I have heard."

"You jest," was the answer to his words. 

"Ah, I find you in ill humour."

"It is too early to presume that, especially for one only just met. Excuse me if I do not say ¡®well met¡¯."

"At any rate, ill humour of any sort is unfortunate to-night," Aragorn shook his head, "as I have two of your kindred who are eagerly awaiting your presence."

She turned around at last, her calm eyes beginning to flicker with curiosity, but her expression betraying nothing. Cocking her head a little, she frowned at him as if judging his intent. Conclusion reached, she stood up slowly as if not tempted at all and pivoted to face him.

"Of whom do you speak?" she asked.

"You have met them before, I am sure of it." he said, revealing nothing. "And they remember you, although it cannot be assured that you have memory of them."

"From where do they hail?" 

"From the North they have come, but that has not always been their home."

"You toy with me, my lord," Adariel frowned. 

Aragorn laughed. "They request specifically to meet you, and would like me to introduce you as they feel you would not like it if they approached you on their own, directly."

"They are strange people," she said, then added, "even if they are of my race. Tell me. How does a stranger meet a stranger?"

Nevertheless, she followed Aragorn through the bodies of excited but busy stable hands as they wove the tired horses around the stalls. The sounds of gravel and wooden wagon wheels seemed especially loud that night, and the loud voices of Men, some singing or chanting as was the way of the Rohan people. 

As they neared a rise in the fair land, Adariel suddenly raised her head in alarm. "Where is Lady Éowyn?"

Aragorn looked unnaturally blank, politely stating that he did knew not where a Lady of her disposition would spend her time in such times, and it was not his business to say even if he knew. But as the conversation died, he looked grieved and seemed burdened with some news that none knew of. Adariel knew better than ask of it. 

They walked past the tents. Here and there Adariel saw faces she recognized, worn and weary. Gimli she saw and Boromir. Their eyes met and broke away again and great understanding came to both. Both had been tempted by the darkness and both had fought it. 

"Lo!" Aragorn suddenly pointed. "There sit the two who await you."

In the near distance, Adariel could see two tall elves with dark hair talking intently around a gay fire, faces glowing golden in the heat. They were alike in so many ways that she could not tell them apart at such a distance, nor could she even as they drew to a halt in front of them. 

They had, of course, seen or heard them coming for they were not surprised to see that Aragorn and herself were waiting silently by their sides. Standing, they smiled laughed and welcomed Aragorn hailing him as Estel, a name which Adariel remembered to be his childhood title. 

"I have succeeded in fetching the Lady of the Fangorn Woods, if she permits me to call her by that name for Fangorn knows no master or mistress," Aragorn grinned, "and now you owe me the rest of the night to myself."

"Gladly we release you from your pact, and postpone this night of storytelling to another date," they smiled, "for we have better company than you, and fairer."

Aragorn did not look offended at this and they laughed so heartily that Adariel felt compelled to join in. 

"I am forgetting myself," Aragorn said as the laughter died down, "and forgetting that I still have your names to announce. Lady Adariel, these are my childhood companions Elladan and Elrohir and my most trusted allies, sons of Elrond hailing from Imladris."

"Well met," Elladan smiled warmly at Adariel¡¯s shocked expression, "and now Aragorn is free roam, having completed his task." Aragorn bowed informally and left swiftly as if something was on his mind. 

Adariel was at once silent, her eyes having widened considerably since receiving their names and titles. So these were the sons of Elrond, to whom she was blood kin to. Their faces were uncomfortably familiar, as if once in her earlier youth she had secretly espied them somewhere in secret, or like memories of a long blown dream that seemed to reach beyond time to tempt her. 

¡°Speak,¡± Elrohir pushed gently. ¡°We¡¯ll not bite.¡±

¡°I would speak,¡± said she with some agitation, ¡°but I have naught to say!¡±

¡°Start with a story,¡± they said. ¡°Rohan is the place of tale-telling and lore. Tell us a story and we will sit together to listen to it. Surely life has left you with _some_ trials or it would be no life at all.¡± But they spoke as if they already knew well her adventures. 

¡°Where shall I start?¡± Adariel smiled.

¡°Start at the beginning,¡± Elladan smiled. ¡°Start at the beginning, or perhaps before it. Start with _you_.¡±

The embers were glowing when she paused to draw breath. Her audience had been encouraging and sympathetic and had shown real sympathy. It was not yet the end of Deep Night; the moon was still bright and Arda still dark. 

Through the last hour there had been much merrymaking, as their fair voices had grown stronger with acquaintance. Adariel had come to like them dearly (it was too early to _love_ yet, for strangers of so many leaf falls were surely still strangers!) and was glad she had fallen across the same path. 

¡°¡­and,¡± she finished at last with a smile, ¡°that is the end of¡­¡±

¡°Hush!¡± they stopped her. ¡°Nay, the knowledge of your story may have come to an end, but the tale is far from over. Whither will you be tomorrow? Even the Wise cannot say although knowledge of all things they do seek. One day you may say that _this_ chapter of the story is done, when Middle Earth begins to tire you and the ocean begins to stir your blood. But the tale will never end for you are of elven blood, and you will be reborn again whether it be in Valinor or Mandos Halls.¡±

¡°Such pretty words are worthy of better ears,¡± Adariel answered humbly. 

¡°Flattery from a stranger _for_ a stranger,¡± Elladan laughed. ¡°Be careful on who you bestow your praises. Words placed in the right ears may start a blazing fire. Beware dear friend for not all fires are ones of destructive nature.¡±

¡°A fire?¡± Adariel asked, puzzled. But they would not answer her, only looking at one another with enlightened eyes as if sharing a jest that only they knew of. Feeling left out, she frowned. ¡°I grow tired of the conversation that I am not a part of.¡±

¡°How easily distracted you must be!¡± Elrohir mused. ¡°Come, let us move into topics we are all of us familiar with.¡±

They talked of Imladris and of news of the North, describing places and people with serious undertones and invited Adariel¡¯s opinions on most matters providing that she had some grasp of the background of situations. Sometimes their words flowed onto distant things, and they talked of the lands beyond the Sea and of the Lady of the Stars. Many a time a small sigh would leak out from troubled lips and _Elbereth_ could be heard in the wind. 

A change in the air signaled the coming of the morning, yet the sky was still blinded. Conversation fell on debate about the current situation in Imladris, and the brothers were grim. 

¡°The power of the elves is not as strong as it once was. We do not fear Sauron but we are ever cautious. It is not yet out of our minds the foolishness of our distant kinsmen so long ago who were tricked by the Dark Lord. Now he is rallying once again and there have been more and more orcs killed by our scouts, both near Imladris and Lothlorien.¡± Elrohir frowned. 

¡°There can only be time standing between battle, I fear. Imladris is not in immediate danger, but it is Lorien that our thoughts are headed,¡± Elladan sighed. ¡°Lorien is much aware of it. Our father has sent at least one messenger there that has been delayed or waylaid by the enemy. Dol Guldur has been silent for too long. It only makes for more suspicion. Celeborn and Galadriel¡¯s thoughts are bent on it as we speak.¡±

¡°Even the north is not safe. Reports from Dale and Erebor are becoming scarce. Even the land of our friend Legolas from the North is seeing more of the foul than the fair.¡± Elrohir added. ¡°And not only orcs they have, but many things great and small who unite under the dominion of the Eye.¡± 

Adariel could only feel horror at the thought of Lorien in such ruin as Lakewood, lately Morladris, was when she had left it. Indeed, her last memory of it was blurred by the red blaze that swept through the entire place. Then she remembered who resided in the Golden Wood, and was at peace. Even the enemy cowered in the light of Galadriel and the golden city of the Galadhrim. 

Elladan and Elrohir caught her thoughts. ¡°Do not doubt,¡± Elrohir allowed a small smile. ¡°Our people will not fail, for in us hate is still strong. We are ever reminded of the trickery that once our kin had fallen under. But let us move onto happier thoughts. How foolish of us to bring on such a topic, at such a place. Look, here comes another now ¨C Mae Governon Legolas Thruanduilion!¡±

¡°Mae Governon, Elladan, Elrohir.¡± Legolas said quietly as he approached and joined them around the slowing fire. ¡°Mae Governon Adariel.¡± He was carrying his bow and placed it before the fire gently. The make of it caught Elladan¡¯s eye. 

¡°I trust that that bow was a gift from Galadriel?¡± he said, amused. 

¡°You have keen eyes¡­¡± Legolas laughed, ¡°¡­or perhaps keen ears?¡±

¡°Both, I think.¡± Elladan answered. ¡°We had heard that your company had passed through the Woods but also the design of your bow told us enough as to confirm our suspicions.¡±

¡°Well said, well said,¡± was the reply and there was laughter all around. 

Adariel felt uncomfortable. Although she had laughed at the small exchange between friends, she felt the eyes of Elrohir on her and saw the frequent glances from Elladan. It was all she could do to laugh when the others laughed, and to form expressions mirroring her companions¡¯ to cover her lack of attention. 

This in itself was no easy thing, for attention seemed mostly thrown her way (and though she did not know it, the constant invitations were from Legolas more often than not) and at times she was obliged to concentrate on the matters being discussed, some to such deep extents as to trigger prolonged silences from all. 

It was entirely a surprise to her when they were muted and looked at her. It was several moments before she realized that she had been addressed by one of them, and she must give a reply. Who had spoken? What was the comment or question?

¡°Im hae gwann**¡± she apologized, shaking her head. ¡°What was it you said? I did not hear.¡±

¡°No offense taken,¡± Elladan replied. ¡°Elrohir and I were just taking leave and I had asked you if you would rather join us?¡±

¡°It would be to the great benefit of Legolas if you were to remain,¡± Elrohir added, a hint of mirth in his voice.

Adariel was not so naïve as not to pick up the idea behind the suggestion, and her quick downward glance to hide her reddening cheeks showed them so. Still, they demanded an answer and there was no time to consider it. Adariel fumed inwardly at their cheek, but was surprised when Legolas himself asked her to remain. 

¡°Well,¡± Adariel finally consented somewhat reluctantly, ¡°if all three of you are so set against my leaving this fire, then I must consent to agree ¨C but you must remember it was not _my_ idea.¡±

Elladan and Elrohir stood in unison and laughed. As they walked away, Elladan turned back and said : ¡°Your tone disapproves of us and your manner demands an apology. Beware, for we¡¯ll not give you one!¡± They laughed again as they turned again and disappeared into the shadows of the makeshift tents and buildings. 

There was silence. 

Adariel was at a loss for what to say. There was nothing that could be discussed that hadn¡¯t thoroughly occupied them during the long discourse with Elladan and Elrohir. She searched her mind for adequate things to say, remembering previous conversations between the two of them that had either left her confused or pensive. 

¡°It is nearly early dawn,¡± she was obliged to comment at last. ¡°You will not be here any longer.¡±

This seemed to startle him, and he looked at her as if remembering she was still there but when he spoke he was serene, albeit somber. ¡°It seems that time is always running short as we head south.¡±

¡°You do not approve!¡± Adariel was surprised. 

He smiled. ¡°That is not what I meant.¡± Then, ¡°There is something that has been troubling me. It is to do with the pass and our destination tomorrow. I presume that Aragorn has not told you?¡±

¡°Told me¡­?¡± 

¡°That he is bent on heading for the Paths of the Dead.¡±

¡°The Paths of the Dead! Is there no other way?¡± she was horrified, memories of Eltheran¡¯s last breath flashing unbidden in front of her eyes. 

¡°It was on Galadriel¡¯s advice that he went. She would not give advice so readily unless she was sure there was no other way.¡± 

¡°That surprises me not.¡± Adariel mused. ¡°But to walk the Path of the Dead! The knowledge of it is a burden in itself. Noble as he is, I feel ill of the journey.¡±

¡°You fear the Dead?¡± Now it was _his_ turn to be surprised. 

She looked uncomfortable. ¡°I do not _fear _the dead, rather, I dislike fey places.¡±

¡°Where the Dead do not sleep¡­they are not fey places for the ones who reside there are already deceased, are they not?¡±

¡°You forget that for but a little while I was among the dead, as was Boromir. I fear for him but in my heart I know he will follow Aragorn.¡±

¡°Boromir may go, where you may choose to stay. As for me, I do not wish to walk the Path, but it is not because of the Dead.¡±

¡°Oh?¡± Adariel looked up. ¡°Pray tell, why do _you _not wish such a journey?¡±

He didn¡¯t answer, but looked at her as if considering an idea. ¡°Come for a ride with me, and perhaps then we will know.¡±

¡°But it is nearly dawn!¡±

¡°There is still time¡­enough time to satisfy even your curiosity.¡± He smiled. ¡°If we are to start, we better go now.¡± He stood and looked about out to the distant peaks and absently offered his hand to Adariel. She raised her eyebrows and allowed herself to be pulled up and took his offered arm. 

¡°Where are we going?¡± Adariel whispered later, as they lead their horses out the southern gate. The two grey mares snorted and glared at their kidnappers, only calming under the promise of food.

¡°I do not know!¡± he grinned, jumping lightly onto his mount¡¯s back and waiting for her to do the same. 

She looked incredulous, if it even were possible for her to look in such a way and galloped swiftly away the minute she mounted. Legolas laughed easily and followed, and answered the thought that entered his mind, one that was not entirely his own. 

_Elves who have too merry a tongue suffer frequently from grievous injuries that mysteriously appear over a short time._

¡°I trust that I shall not be getting any,¡± he said aloud seriously, but could not stop the smile forming in his eyes. ¡°It would be a sad thing indeed for Aragorn if he loses one of his company thus far into the journey. 

Words could not describe his companion¡¯s expression. It was not one of anger, but of tremendous fear and surprise (if that is the word to be used). She halted, but too fast it seemed. The horse was in confusion and reared violently. Catching his rider off guard, the stallion easily tossed her off his bare back and stood trembling from its sudden deceleration. 

The impact jerked her out of her trance, but pain was on her lips instead of a retort. She held in her groan but remained seated on the wet dew covered grass, ignoring the politely concerned figure kneeling by her side. Suddenly she could feel how cool the pre-dawn hours were, and could see how the stars of Varda called Elbereth kissed the fading sky. 

It was not the shock of her fall (and the shame of it!) that held her attention now. Nor was it the silent figure at her side who was watching her intently. It was once more the beauty of Arda that drew from her a look of such nature as to still another living creature¡¯s heart and make them catch their breath. It was not yet a look she had bestowed upon any living creature, save the trees, which once were her friends and had now become estranged from one another. 

Yet the trees had no eyes but thrift ears and branches, and did not heed the looks of other beings. 

So entranced was she that out of her mind flew the existence of the silent shape beside her, and she did not notice his look of wonder nor hear his breath catch in his throat. Yet as her heart wandered through the fields and valleys still untouched by the Enemy, she heard the South wind blow and it seemed that she could hear the ocean at the mouth of Anduin call to her and was sad. 

No beauty of Middle Earth could hold her. The web had floated wide*.   
  


She turned abruptly. ¡°How?¡±

Caught staring, he blinked and looked down. ¡°How¡­?¡±

¡°How was it that you could read my thoughts?¡± Adariel demanded. ¡°I did not speak them aloud.¡± She stood up, suddenly wary. The distance and the loneliness of the place seemed to finally reach her, and she looked about forlornly. A solitary figure, she suddenly did not want the answer to her question, and mounted without waiting to hear it. 

¡°Dawn is breaking,¡± she said, looking beyond the horizon. ¡°We must fly back.¡±

Legolas felt compelled to say something. ¡°Forgive me,¡± he said, though he knew not what he was apologizing for, and had to make do with the comfort of an amused glance. In the stirring of the morning, amidst the clang of armor, few noticed and remembered their return. 

¡°What will you do now?¡± Aragorn looked hard at Éowyn. ¡°Your people look to you, the White Lady of Rohan.¡± 

Dawn was on the horizon and pushed for an answer, yet Éowyn did not reply but turned away and disappeared into the embrace of the morning. Overhead, the pattern of stars slowly faded into the pinking sky, with the star of Earendil (the Evenstar) lingering until the end, the last to disappear. 

A little later when time was swiftly running by and all made ready to depart, Aragorn met Adariel looking longingly over the outer barrier. 

¡°Which road will you take now?¡± he asked her. ¡°You know where _we_ must go now.¡±

The wind swept by and for a long while Adariel did not answer. She looked out to the quite North, to its silently sleeping form and its gentle plains. Where would she go? She could not stay, yet she did not want to leave and take the path that she loathed to walk. 

  
¡±I knew ¨C know ¨C of another who fears to be caged,¡± Aragorn said gently. ¡°Yet you are free to leave while she is bound to all that she must love. Choose wisely, for there are those who long for their freedom as you long for yours. You have no errand to the South, yet I cannot counsel you to stay nor can I say go. But in Minas Tirith where my eyes must look to now there are houses of healing which may see many unwilling guests under their roofs.¡±

¡°Whither will you go?¡± he repeated

¡°I do not know,¡± Adariel sighed, ¡°yet my heart tells me I cannot stay.¡±

She was not there when Lady Éowyn to bid the company of riders goodbye, but the folk hiding in fear until they had disappeared into the shadows under black Dwimorberg, the Haunted Mountain, in which was the Door of the Dead and knew once more that her place was not in Rohan. 

Perhaps, it was just as well.  
  


End of Chapter 20 

* _¡®Out flew the web and floated wide;/The mirror crack¡¯d from side to side;/¡±The curse is come upon me,¡± cried/the Lady of Shalott.¡¯ - _Alfred, Lord Tennyson (from The Lady of Shalott ¨C one of my favourite poems)

**** _I am absent/far way _**

Wow look at my pile of hate mail! *SS unlocks her safe and points to a pile of hate-mail* I know I haven¡¯t been online for ages so my inbox has been pooling but that¡¯s quite some collection, don¡¯t you think?

I really hate to admit this but my life doesn¡¯t revolve around writing this story (although my short term goal is always to finish another chapter). I am, after all, still at school. Like all good, healthy schools mine happens to cram exams and other sudden but incredibly important assignments in the last seven weeks of school. Well fortunately my year¡¯s finally _over_ I am free to write as often as I like now. _From now on, I¡¯ve got no excuses so feel free to kick my butt from now until the last week of January every time I¡¯m late!_

So anyway, while I¡¯ve been away I have finally the ending of this big long fanfic all worked out! Uh huh, now I just have to fine tune some details and type it all up. Details? I hear you ask. Oh, it¡¯s just the matter of whether it¡¯s going to be a happy or sad ending that¡¯s all. But that¡¯s ok nothing¡¯s set in concrete yet. Never underestimate the power of daydreaming

¨CSpirit Star

P.S. can somebody email me and remind me to upgrade my Internet Explorer? I always forget. Enjoy TTT everybody! (and may I remind you to _read the book_ if you haven¡¯t already?)


	21. Chapter 21: In which there is great hast...

**Disclaimer**: Does doggie want a biscuit? Does cute little doggie woggy want a bickie? Oh come on¡­come here¡­oh no! Oh my gosh help! Stay away. Here you can have the biscuit. Nooooo. Help me! Somebody! AHHH ARRRGHHHHHH!!!_ *Meanwhile Spirit Star watches in amusement as her imaginary dog Hoom beats the crap out of her imaginary friend. Oh and she would also like to mention that characters Adariel and her father and a few minor unheard of places and characters belong to her and if you mistreat them she will send Hoom after you. Everything else is Tolkien¡¯s* _

**Echoes of the Narbeleth**

Spirit Star

**Chapter 21: In which there is great haste**

¡°Wilt thou stay or wilt thou go?¡± Éowyn asked hollowly when Adariel came to see her the next day, and looked about to the north with some reflection. Suddenly Adariel felt pity for this proud lady and for her clipped wings. It was with some difficulty that she asked for a horse.   
  
¡°Th¨¦oden King has taken some, and what good steeds we had left we lent to the Lord Aragorn.¡± Éowyn replied a little bitterly. ¡°You must check with the stables. But this is not our hold in Edoras, and many great horses were lost as you well know.¡±  
  
¡°Then I will stay,¡± Adariel said, ¡°as long as you may need me.¡±  
  
¡°But I do not need you.¡± Éowyn said. ¡°Therefore I give you leave to go as you came.¡±  
  
At that moment there came shouts from below them, and there was great excitement. Éowyn stood quickly and pressed to the northern wall. Starkhorn echoed with the pounding of tired hooves. No news came to her, yet she knew. ¡°I must meet them,¡± Éowyn cried and with great urgency made for the stables. ¡°They are at the Firienfeld!¡±  
  
Following, Adariel made her way with most of the camp past the king¡¯s pavilion and the small newly erected tent beside it and stood silently as out of the horses¡¯ shelter rode not the White Lady of Rohan but a Rider of the Mark, or so it appeared. The Rohirrim turned off the road to meet the rider. Back they rode, without great haste, and the people scattered with glad hearts to welcome back their king.   
  
She watched as they passed through the short heath and upland grass without speaking until they came to the king¡¯s pavilion. Éowyn looked slightly startled to see her standing there, and as one awoken from a deep sleep or heavy thought she said, ¡°Come my lords and rest. You are not the only ones to shelter here tonight.¡±  
  
Th¨¦oden looked up and surprise lit his face but in Éomer¡¯s eyes there was recognition. Beyond him Adariel saw a small figure the size of a mortal boy grimly adjusting his helm. One Halfling she saw, but could not find the other.   
  
¡°An elf?¡± the King asked Éowyn. ¡°There was an elf with Lord Aragorn. Has the north sent a woman to our aid?¡±  
  
¡°Nay, my lord,¡± Éomer spoke, ¡°for we have met. She entered these lands as one of Aragorn¡¯s company.¡± Turning to Adariel, he said: ¡°We find you alone for Éowyn tells us of Aragorn¡¯s road. He is lost but you have not gone with him. Why?¡±  
  
Having heard Aragorn¡¯s name, the Halfling looked up. Adariel did not doubt that this was either Merry or Pippin. Looking back up at Éomer Adariel replied, ¡°I have other errands to run to the south. To ride to that end was not for me to choose.¡±  
  
¡°There were two other of her kind. They were sons of Elrond from the forgotten valley of Rivendell in the north gone to ride with Lord Aragorn into shadow.¡± Éowyn suddenly said.   
  
¡°You look familiar,¡± a voice said. ¡°I cannot place your face. Who are you? Have we met before?¡±   
  
Adariel turned to the hobbit, who was looking at her with narrowed eyes. ¡°Forgive me my lords,¡± she shook her head. ¡°I have not named myself. I am known as Adariel of the elves who once lived in the Fangorn woods. You know of our people well, yet we have seldom met.¡±  
  
¡°We do not stay into Fangorn on whim Adariel of the Woodland. Long have we two peoples been estranged. Yet if you come as a friend those days are ended.¡± Th¨¦oden said steadily.   
  
¡°Those days have indeed ended and they shall never be seen again in this Age, nor the next, nor for as long as the line of Men holds in this land.¡± Adariel answered cryptically and it seemed to those who heard her that her face was bittersweet.  
  
¡°I do not know that name,¡± the hobbit said. ¡°but Meriadoc ¨C Merry ¨C is what I am called and I am very pleased to meet you.¡±  
  
¡°Well met Master Meriadoc,¡± Adariel replied.   
  
Th¨¦oden laughed. ¡°Ever polite are the Shirefolk. Come king¡¯s esquire. There is a tent for you beside mine where you shall rest for now.¡± With a nod at Adariel he disappeared into the pavilion with Éomer and several other men. Éowyn remained to escort Merry to the small tent beside the king¡¯s lodging. Returning, assured Adariel her freedom to roam the camp before leaving on an errand.   
  
¡°Lady Éowyn!¡± Adariel called after her. Éowyn turned questioningly.   
  
¡°I must leave before nightfall,¡± Adariel said. ¡°I¡­I cannot explain but my heart forbids me to stay.¡±  
  
¡°Whither will you go?¡± Éowyn asked, an echo of the question asked not so long ago. Yet this time there came an answer.   
  
¡°I ride to the south,¡± Adariel answered to her own surprise. ¡°I was told that¡­¡±  
  
Then Éowyn was still and cold. Her face showed no emotion and when she spoke her voice was chilled. ¡°You must ask the Lord of the Mark. I no longer rule these lands for the King has returned and for the while I am Éowyn Éomund¡¯s daughter and I am but sister-daughter to Th¨¦oden of the Mark no more yet no less.¡± So saying, she turned and strode away.   
  
Adariel sighed and watched at a distance the passing of Men to and from the king¡¯s lodgings bringing and taking counsel. To intrude would be discourteous but night was coming fast. It was not long before night did fall yet men kept vigil by the pavilion. However, Éowyn appeared once more and seeing Adariel sitting alone nearby invited her inside.   
  
In the inner part of the pavilion was a small space, curtained off with broidered hangings and strewn with skins; and there at a small table sat Th¨¦oden, Éomer and a stranger who was D¨²nhere, lord of Harrowdale. They rose to meet Éowyn and Adariel. Presently they sat and a trumpet was sounded for others to join them.   
  
¡°O Th¨¦oden King,¡± Adariel said immediately. ¡°I do not sit to join your meal for I must leave, and I fear that I must go soon.¡±  
  
¡°Who art thou to speak so at the King¡¯s table?¡± D¨²nhere said angrily   
  
¡°Peace, but I am in great haste and I beg you to forgive my discourtesy. I must beseech you for the service of one of your horses for my own was lost.¡±  
  
¡°What is your errand?¡± Th¨¦oden asked, serenely lifting a hand to cut off D¨²nhere¡¯s sharp reply. Unwillingly, Adariel explained as best she could her urgency into Gondor and Minas Tirith.   
  
¡°It is the better part of 306 miles from here to Minas Tirith past the great beacons,¡± Th¨¦oden said when she had finished. ¡°The ride will take at least five nights on a riding horse.¡±  
  
¡°Yet go I must,¡± Adariel said firmly. Behind them Merry quietly slipped in and looked about.   
  
¡°We cannot spare any of our riders to accompany you,¡± Th¨¦oden shook his head. ¡°We are riding that way tomorrow, yet we are men who ride to war and we have no place for a lady amongst us.¡±  
  
¡°I will go alone.¡±   
  
¡°Understand that if you follow the Great West Road past the Amon Din you are heading to the shadow. Mordor is there, and so the creatures of that dark land must also lie there. Minas Morgul may yet spring from the crossroads. That is no road for a woman to ride.¡±  
  
He paused, for at that moment there was a noise outside, a man¡¯s voice crying the name of Th¨¦oden, and the challenge of the guard.   
  
  
  
  
Presently the captain of the Guard thrust aside the curtain. ¡°A man is here, lord,¡± he said, ¡°an errand rider of Gondor. He wishes to come before you at once.¡±  
  
¡°Let him come!¡± said Th¨¦oden.   
  
A tall man entered and there was a choked cry from Merry. Adariel looked at him and knew why. Here was one who at a glance was Boromir¡¯s image. To Merry, Boromir was dead and to Adariel he might as well have died. She knew not what powers lay on the Path of the Dead yet she knew that Boromir was dead once and perhaps would die once again if he ever met with others who neither Live nor have fled to the Halls. She too had been of the dead, yet her blood was not that of Man. Should she have arrived at the Halls she would have been reborn to a new memory in the West.   
  
The stranger was clad as a rider with a cloak of dark green. On the front of his helm was wrought a small silver star. In his hand he bore a single arrow, black feathered and barbed with steel, but the point was painted red. Sinking to one knee, he presented the arrow to Th¨¦oden.   
  
¡°Hail, Lord of the Rohirrim, friend of Gondor,¡± said he. ¡°Hirgon I am, errand-rider of Denethor who brings you this token of war. Gondor is in great need. Often the Rohirrim have aided us, but now the Lord Denethor asks for all your strength and all your speed lest Gondor fall at last.¡±  
  
Th¨¦oden was pale as he received the arrow, holding it as one who receives an expected but long dreaded summons. His hand trembled. ¡°The Red Arrow has not been seen in the Mark in all my years! Has it come to that? What does the Lord Denethor reckon that all my strength and all my speed may be?¡±  
  
¡°That you know best yourself, lord,¡± Hirgon said. ¡°But before long it may well be that Minas Tirith is surrounded. Lord Denethor calls you within his walls for he has great need for the strong arms of the Rohirrim.¡±  
  
¡°Your Lord knows that we are a people who fight rather upon horseback and in the open. We are a scattered people and time is needed to gather our Riders. He must know that we are already at war; we are not unprepared. The one you call Mithrandir has been among us and even now we are mustering for battle in the East.¡±  
  
¡°We are desperate. My lord does not issue any command but begs you to remember old friendship and oaths long spoken. From the North to the field of Dagorlad there is unrest and whispers of war. The Haradrim are moving in the South. It has been reported that many kings from the East have ridden to the service of Mordor. Little help will come to us yet when the tide sweeps it will flow over all the fair fields of Rohan too. You have no refuge.¡±  
  
¡°Dark tidings yet we have long suspected that the Black Land has been gathering. We would come to your aid even if Rohan itself were not in peril, yet we have suffered much loss in our battles with Saruman. We will come but we will not leave our strongholds unguarded. Six thousands at least shall ride behind me though maybe I shall not come back. A week it may be from tomorrow morning before you hear the cry of the Sons of Eorl coming from the North.¡±  
  
¡°A week!¡± Hirgon cried. ¡°Then we will look to you in a week if we have not all perished. Still, you may at least chase the Orcs and Swarthy men from the skeletons of the White Tower.¡±  
  
¡°If that is how we find Minas Tirith, then chase them away we will. But I myself have just come from battle and long journey and I will now rest. Tarry here this night and be at peace.¡±  
  
Th¨¦oden stood and they all rose. ¡°Go now each to your rest,¡± he said, ¡°and sleep well. As for you Master Meriadoc, I do not need you tonight. But be ready to come as the Sun is risen. I will call for you.¡±  
  
  
  
  
¡°Wait!¡± Adariel called to Hirgon as they left the pavilion. ¡°I must talk with you, Rider of Gondor.¡±  
  
Surprise was on his face when he turned to meet her. ¡°Why,¡± he said, ¡°what is one of the fair Elven folk of the north doing in Rohan?¡±  
  
¡°Your horse,¡± Adariel said, ignoring his question. ¡°Lend me your horse.¡±  
  
Hirgon laughed. ¡°An errand-rider does not part with his horse lest the end is come for what is an errand-_rider_ without a steed? Surely you do not ask that of me!¡±  
  
¡°No,¡± Adariel said bitterly, yet resignedly. ¡°No, I do not.¡±  
  
¡°Then good-night Lady,¡± Hirgon shook his head. ¡°I have many things to do to-morrow. Dark are the days coming and I must head to Minas Tirith for the braking of the tide. Stay, or go with your people who are whispered to be leaving these shores.¡± And turning, he walked away with one of the guards to his tent.   
  
As one who watches disaster drowns slowly on his sorry, Adariel stood alone amongst the silent camp save the mumbles of the guards. Far away came the sounds the wind caressing the grass, yet cold was its touch; for it was the East Wind come from the shadow to breath upon the enduring land.   
  
She was at a loss, and felt it more on that ever-darkening night. War was breaking in the East, yet she would not be able to meet it. A heavy restlessness fell upon her and she felt the sting of bitter, despairing tears. Yet still the East Wind blew and still the land endured.   
  
¡°You are not unlike me, I think,¡± Éowyn¡¯s voice rose behind her.   
  
¡°Why do you not leave?¡± Adariel asked, but she knew the answer before it left Éowyn¡¯s lips.   
  
¡°I am kept here,¡± Éowyn said, walking forward softly, ¡°by my love for the King who is like a father to me and my love for my brother. Though the blood of kings flows through me I am but an ornament in their grand halls. I would curse this body yet I fear to do so, and no poison shall leave my mouth as long as the Lord of the Mark and my blood brother walk this earth still. Yet like a trapped bird watching a soaring gull I watch you.¡±  
  
¡°You say that no poison shall leave your lips,¡± Adariel sighed, ¡°yet you keep it still inside you. Beware Éowyn daughter of Éomund: your end may be dealt by your own hands.¡±  
  
¡°Then I die free,¡± Éowyn answered simply.   
  
¡°Is that how you would live? You think you are caged by your people or by your love for your people, yet it is you who throws away the key and not they. You live in hope of death. Then I say to you Éowyn of the house of Eorl that you are not truly living.¡±  
  
¡°Strong words you speak,¡± Éowyn cried, ¡°yet I cannot live by your counsel. You forget that you were never caged. Like the free songbird puzzles over the captured lark you speak to me. Your riddles laugh at me.¡±  
  
¡°Find your key,¡± Adariel said simply. ¡°Mine I have found, yet I have let it go away from me.¡± She listened to Éowyn¡¯s retreating footsteps. Soon they were replaced by the quiet clipping of uneven hooves upon the hard ground. The sound was familiar, memories of the past sparking and spreading like wildfire. Adariel hardly dared to hope.   
  
¡°We found her many days ago,¡± Éowyn said. ¡°Great she once was but now she is broken. She will not go with the Riders tomorrow and she is all that we can spare. I will go with you to the end of the guard.¡±  
  
Slowly, Adariel turned and her heart ached at what she saw. A great mare stood pawing the hard earth. Its ragged mane clung to her neck and her blind eyes rolled fearfully as she trembled. What were once bloody gashes lined her sides and she bit out violently at every little movement.   
  
¡°Starliss?¡± Adariel breathed.   
  
¡°She is blind,¡± Éowyn said steadily. ¡°We have nursed her back to health. One of her legs was nearly broken. She walks with a limp. People of the Horses we are, but we have no memory of this beast. One of the stable boys has named her Onodl¨® (the Entwash) for that is where we found her and that is the name she answers to. She lets no man saddle her, but your folk do need saddles.¡±  
  
¡°Onodl¨®?¡± Adariel called softly, reaching her hand to stroke the matted mane. Immediately, the large head jerked around and teeth bit sharply down on the night air.   
  
¡°She does not know you.¡±  
  
_Onodl__¨®? _Adariel whispered with her mind. The horse¡¯s ears twitched and she looked about blankly with unseeing eyes. _Speak to me¡­_  
  
Then suddenly the mare gave way and a flood jumbled thought screamed into Adariel¡¯s mind. Frightened, angry mumblings and the smell of burning was everywhere. Like great jaws the smoke closed in on everything and the dying of many living things could be felt in the air.   
  
Gasping, Adariel pulled away. Onodl¨®, formerly Starliss, stood serenely by Éowyn¡¯s side.   
  
¡°It has long been said that the Elves are friends of horses,¡± Éowyn breathed. ¡°And now I see it for myself.¡±  
  
¡°No,¡± Adariel said. ¡°I knew this animal once for she has lived with my people. She was fast once but I trust that she may bear me once more south. If fast she once was, then like a normal horse she now is.¡±  
  
_Do you remember me?_ Adariel asked Onodl¨®. _  
  
Fire. Death. Smoke. Searching, searching for somebody. Black smoke. No air. Rotting flesh._  
  
_Do you remember me?_ Adariel delved deeper.   
  
_No_.   
  
¡°She does not remember¡­¡± Adariel looked away to still her fears. ¡°Perhaps she will not trust me.¡±  
  
Far away there was a call. Éowyn turned sharply and looked back toward the rows of tents. ¡°I am being called,¡± said she. ¡°I will take you past the guards but then I must return.¡± Tugging on the rope, Éowyn pulled the white mare forward. One of the guards came over but Éowyn waved him away.   
  
¡°There is an errand to be run. Let her pass,¡± Éowyn said. They walked out a little way and stopped. ¡°You must mount. Haste is biting at your heel.¡±  
  
_Do you trust me?_ Adariel gingerly reached out to touch her hand to Onodl¨®¡¯s back.   
  
_Smoke. Sweat. Blood. No dawn, no light. No stars. Can¡¯t see. Can¡¯t feel. Can¡¯t breath¡­  
  
Do you trust me? _  
  
_Who¡­are¡­you?  
  
Do you trust me?  
  
No.   
  
Mellon Nin.  
  
_There was some hesitation and in that moment Adariel quickly jumped on. Onodl¨® screamed in protest and tossed and turned trying to see through her blindness at her assailant. Adariel held on tightly until Onodl¨® grew resigned, and was still.   
  
Turning the mare¡¯s neck, she wheeled the horse around to the right direction then gently nudged its heaving sides. Frightened, the horse bolted as best it could on limping legs. Turning back, Adariel saw that Éowyn had already disappeared amongst the litter of torch lights and slumbering tents.   
  
  
  
  
It was not until high noon the next day that Onodl¨® finally stopped, breath gasping and panting and nostrils flaring. Sweat soaked the mare¡¯s body as she shook weakly on her legs. But they had achieved great distance, as much land as perhaps she would have covered had she not the horrific injuries, yet Adariel knew that this would be the fastest that Onodl¨® would go for the rest of her days. Her speed was driven by her fear. Throughout the night Adariel had nervously guided the blind horse past some Fenmarch and the Firien wood along the Great West Road. They were just in sight of Calenhad, one of the Seven Great Beacons*.  
  
Tough they had covered more than a third of their journey in a little under a day, it would be many nights on Onodl¨® before they would finally arrive at Minas Tirith. The horse was spent, and what strength she had left in her once-nimble body had been used in that wild ride. By day they walked in the shade of the mountains and passed through the edge of the wooded lands and by night, the great but desperate light of the great beacons lit their path to the west.  
  
Through the Druadan Forest they rode, watched by secret wild eyes and guided by the light of Eilenach until on the fourth night of their journey they rounded Amon Dîn and emerged from the outskirts of Grey Wood and gazed southward toward south Ithilien.. To the sound of the rushing Anduin, Mt. Mindolluin loomed. In the distance and in its shadow was the seven-tiered citadel of the Kings of Gondor, once known as Minas Anor yet renamed Minas Tirith ¨C the Tower of Guard.   
  
Something was amiss. Foul winds blew from Cair Andros as if a dark host had come near. All was dark, yet darker than night. Touched by the frost, Onodl¨® shivered under her. The wind changed and swiftly the south wind came. Adariel peered into the distance¡­there were lights. Red lights in the darkness. Suddenly, Onodl¨® screamed a terrible scream and shook.   
  
_Fire. There is fire. Flames and burning and death.   
  
_Dread filled her heart. Through the blanket of dark she could finally see and what she saw made her weep. As she watched, the horsemen of the enemy swept up. The lines of fire became flowing torrents, file upon file of Orcs bearing flames and wild Southron men and red banners shouting. They were overtaking a retreat and men were breaking away, falling to the ground or flying wildly. Nazgûl stooped out of the dim sky and death was with them when next they flew up again.   
  
At last a trumpet rang and out sprang mounted men charging forward with a shout. The blue banner of Dol Amroth waved high. Like a light they came and flowing and burning like white flame before their enemies. Screeching, the Nazgûl swept away and the hosts of Morgul scattered. A second trumpet sounded and the onslaught halted. Men proudly marched back to the city to the safety and praise inside. Minas Tirith was safe ¨C for the night. All that was left outside were the dead, the dying and fires flickering to a shadow.   
  
Tears were in her eyes as slowly Adariel slid off the mare. She was too late. Like a river running, there was no stopping it. The fight for Gondor had already begun.**

**End of Chapter 21  
  
**_*If you are curious and haven¡¯t read the books (tsk!) the seven beacons are Halifirien, Calenhad, Minrimmon, Erelas, Nardol, Eilenach and __Amon Dîn.   
  
**The first wave soon to come. Beware the siege of Minas Tirith! ^^_

Happy NY everbody! I¡¯ve just come back from Christmas/New Year at the beach so couldn¡¯t update for Xmas but I hope this makes up for it. I can honestly say that that was the hardest chapter to write so far because of timing and everything. Hopefully I have got it right. I get so confused going through Tolkien¡¯s brilliant work marking off which days are which and on what days what happened especially now that there¡¯s war so it¡¯s bloody murder (no pun intended) figuring it all out.   
  
On a more topical note, if you find anything weird with the formatting in this chapter ie. a chunk of the story is missing or the like please inform me immediately. This is because I have finally cured the double spacing HTML type gaps between the paragraphs. Personally I think I like the wider gaps but I wasn¡¯t sure if you guys were used to it. However I, er, seemed to have ¡®misplaced¡¯ _500 _words (or so says the wordcount) somewhere during my editing process (eek!) but scanning over it I can¡¯t find anything weird but maybe it¡¯s because my brain¡¯s too familiar with the text. I¡¯ll be in the process of editing out the huge gaps in Chapter 20. That reminds me. Any formatting requests you guys have can you clue me in please? Thanks!


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